


Six of Swords

by enkelimagnus



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Character Development, Eventual Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, FBI Alec Lightwood, FBI Shadowhunters, Human AU, Internalized Homophobia, Jewish Maia Roberts, Jewish Simon Lewis, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Obsessive Brotherly Love, Protestant Isabelle Lightwood, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Magnus Bane, Psychic Warlocks in general, Religion, Serial Killers, empathic abilities, repressed alec, slowburn, tags and warning subjected to changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-04-03 15:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkelimagnus/pseuds/enkelimagnus
Summary: Magnus Bane was born with a gift. A gift to harness a power and a sense that most cannot access. A gift that made him somewhat of an outcast. He’s 28 when, one morning, he is arrested and interrogated for the murder of 3 of his clients. He’s made his living as a psychic, and that very fact makes him more than suspicious to the man in charge of the case, FBI Alec Lightwood.Unfortunate orders leave Magnus and Alec forced into an uncomfortable cohabitation. What happens when two people, so different yet similar, are forced to live together?Let’s not get too comfortable here, because the murderer is still loose…





	1. I : Death

**Author's Note:**

> Death:
> 
> Upright: Endings, beginnings, change, transformation, transition  
> Reversed: Resistance to change, unable to move on
> 
> Death often represents an important ending that will initiate great change. It signals the end of an era; a moment when a door is closing. Death is inevitable, and sometimes there are events that are inescapable as well. When these moments occur, the best approach is to ride your fate and see where it takes you.

“State your name for the record.”

Magnus Bane. His name was Magnus Bane, and all he could think at this very moment, was how he wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to go back to his comfortable bed, even if he knew he would probably feel it for the next few days. 

“Magnus Bane,” Magnus replied. “And I was born December 8, 1989, in Jakarta, Indonesia.” 

Usually, reminding himself of these things, of his home, was something that calmed him down. But he couldn’t bring himself to imagine the softness of Chairman Meow’s fur, nor the heaviness of two blankets over his body in his bed, nor the heady scent of the sandalwood incense he would burn. His mind was preoccupied by this… place. 

The precinct was just like any other, really. It wasn’t the cubicles, or the policemen, or the feds in their suits in the corner that were upsetting him, nor was it the fed in front of him, all height and chiseled cheekbones. Magnus would have looked at him twice, had he not been assaulted by the feelings. 

Ever since he could remember, he’d had a sense that no one else seemed to have. It wasn’t easy. Nothing in this world was made for him.

The first time he could remember feeling it was when he was a child. A wave of frustration had assaulted him from his mother, and it had been like a slap. Ever since, he could feel people. He could sense how they were feeling, and when he walked through the traces left behind by those feelings, he knew. 

The precinct was full to the brim with horrible things, polluting the air. Fear, anger, violence, despair, they all dropped from the ceilings, wrapped around his legs, made his breath quicken and his hands shake as he tried to keep himself from showing signs of what he was going through. It could play against him. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

Would he stop with his questions? Couldn’t this man see that Magnus hated this place, that he wanted out, now, before he went insane? 

“I know I was woken up and arrested. I don’t know why or what you think I did. I’m not guilty.” 

He kept his voice as steady as he could, and kept himself from closing his fists. The hoodie he was wearing was enveloping him when it should have been comforting. It wasn’t. He couldn’t pull the sleeves over his hands because of the restraints, fixed to the metal table in the middle of the interrogation room. 

“That’s exactly what someone who is guilty would say.” Agent Lightwood chuckled coldly, watching him closely, like he was… like he was laughing at Magnus. He took another deep breath and sighed. “Listen. You’re a suspect of three murders. Those victims were your clients,” he explained. 

Murder? Fear and anxiety caught in his throat, now choking him. He couldn’t think past them. He couldn’t murder someone; he could barely walk past the scene of a murder of 20 years without having an attack. It was like a sick, sick joke. 

The joke got worse when the agent placed three pictures in front of him. Three bodies. Women. Clothes cut around the torso to reveal the right side of their stomach, as if there was some kind of proof the killer was searching for. There was no blood, only the purple mark of the killer strangling its victims. The teared clothing felt strangely violent, compared to the rest of the body. 

“I have… an alibi,” Magnus explained. It was complicated but yes, he’d been home and alone, and it seemed like he was the perfect suspect. But, apart from the fact that he had an alibi… he couldn’t kill someone. 

Alec raised an eyebrow at the suspect that was sitting in front of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the guy, it was just that he found psychics so incredibly foolish and unnerving. No one should believe any word that came out of their manipulative mouths. He could see some distress in the other’s features, but… it was probably due to the fact that he knew it was the end of the road for him. 

Magnus Bane knew that it was over, that he was found out, and Alec could finally, finally, have a way to end this horrible case. He could put the murderer in prison. He could give justice to all those women. He could only link three murders to Magnus Bane, but there had been fourteen victims total, and there was no way they weren’t his victims. 

“Why women? Fourteen young women. Are you one of those… obsessed ones?” 

Shock was written over the man’s handsome face. Too bad he was a criminal. If he hadn’t been, maybe Alec would have gone on a date or two. Or not. After all, he was always too busy. It was stupid to think he would have time for a date with some… psychic guy. Even if said psychic guy had some pretty nice features. 

“I’m not obsessed, I didn’t do this.” 

“Tell me how you can have an alibi for the crimes I’ve mentioned, when I still have to tell you when and where they were perpetrated. You just played yourself, Bane.” 

Magnus felt himself start to panic. He had no idea what to do at this point, and he was starting to get exhausted from battling the pollution of the precinct. He was used to this, to the rejection and the pain, to the knowledge that he would always be found guilty because he couldn’t explain what he knew. 

He could feel the scorn and the anger coming from the man in front of him, the prejudice that made him see Magnus as a monster, as an outsider. The agent was radiating frustration, exhaustion and anger, and the tiniest hint of fear. Magnus could feel it. He could almost see it, in a block of feelings that were kept tight around the man, in control. 

“I didn’t do this,” he whispered, hands shaking slightly. What would happen to him if he was in jail? He could defend himself, yes, he spent enough time boxing to know how to throw a proper punch, but he was more afraid about his mind. 

This kind of environment had broken him before. He didn’t know how he would survive it again. 

Alec clenched his jaw, closing his eyes in annoyance for a couple of seconds. A voice in the back of his head was telling him he was wasting his time, that the psychic was either an extremely talented actor, or he was completely innocent. He knew the latter would be Clary’s theory when he walked out. Maybe even Izzy’s. Jace? Jace was always more skeptical, and less attuned to people’s behavior. 

“What were you doing, on the night of the 23rd?” There was a new victim on the 23rd of each month, like some kind of morbid birthday. And recently, also on the 29th. Which meant someone was getting killed as they spoke, if Bane wasn’t the murderer. 

Alec didn’t understand why those days in particular. Was the murderer celebrating something? 

“I was home.” Magnus’ answer was simple, and yes, it didn’t provide anything. The agent very obviously rolled his eyes. “I was home, and I was doing readings, on my online platform. You can check on my computer, there’s a… there’s a log, with the time.” 

A wave of pity came from the agent then, and the man’s eyes were only confirming what Magnus felt. He thought of him as someone to be pitied and laughed at. The more Magnus thought about this situation, the less he had hope. 

“We’re going to search your apartment and get your laptop. That will get us a way to check your alibi.” 

The tall man stood up, closing the jacket of his suit in one swift motion. Magnus’ eyes followed him. Alec noticed then the traces of faded makeup around the suspect’s eyes, much like Izzy’s, when she forgot to thoroughly take off her eyeliner. Interesting. 

The more he looked at the alleged criminal, the more he was intrigued. He still didn’t like him, or trust him, or even think that he was a good person, but Magnus Bane was definitely… something. 

“Can I go home? I’d much rather go home with a surveillance team than stay here.” Magnus’ voice was shaky, as if he was afraid of it cracking.

Alec raised an eyebrow. “So you can finish hiding the traces of your actions, and try and escape from us? I don’t think so. You’re staying here.” His words felt final. 

The psychic sighed, shoulders dropping. There was no way he was going to survive much longer in this interrogation room. He could try but… it was overwhelming, despite the bareness of the walls around him. 

Alec watched him more for some time before he gathered the files on his table and walked to the door. It opened with a light squeak and closed again on Magnus, shutting him in. 

Izzy was standing on the other side of the door when he walked out, her arms crossed and a perfectly drawn eyebrow raised in his direction. Alec could feel the lecture coming. His sister stayed silent, waiting for him to find out what he'd done wrong by himself. Alec was maybe the team leader, but everyone knew Izzy was the only one that could keep him in check. 

“You need sleep.” 

Alec was not expecting that. At all. He huffed and started walking down the hallway. 

“Izzy, I’m good. I got a few hours last night, and we have a very plausible suspect.” He pointed behind him at the room they had just left. He heard nothing in reply but the clicking of Izzy’s heels on the linoleum. He’d never tried on heels - he wasn’t the kind of person that did - but it always astonished him how she could do all of what she did in those. He’d seen her fight, perfectly balanced, kicking a criminal in a perfect round kick across the face, her dark hair flowing as she did. 

Alec adjusted the jacket of his suit, out of habit. He couldn’t understand the way the suspect was acting in the interrogation room. 

“You think he did it.” Izzy finally spoke as they reached the room the precinct had transformed into their HQ. Alec rolled his eyes. Of course he did. 

There, the rest of his team was hard at work. 

Clary Fray was sitting cross-legged on top of a desk, munching on a sandwich as she went through Magnus Bane’s file. She was definitely not Alec’s favorite, though he prided himself on being relatively impartial. However, she was good-hearted and hard-working, open-minded and strong, and she was a definite asset to the team. Her quick understanding of situations, and her willingness to believe people - a perfect balance to Alec’s scepticism - was something that made her a good part of the team.

She was short, young, and had fiery red hair that matched her temper. She tended to be opinionated but in a way that was good for everyone. She waved lightly at them when they walked into the room. 

Jace Herondale, in the contrary, was the most reckless one of the team, and his opinions and rebellious spirit tended to get him in trouble. He rarely thought before acting, and had regularly gotten reprimanded for his insubordination. Alec and him had known each other since the Academy. Alec had once had a crush, but it had dissipated the second the other man had made some rather offensive comments. 

The only reason Alec was keeping him on his team, where all members except Jace himself happened to be LGBTQ+, was his skillset. The blond man was still on thin ice. It wouldn’t take much more than a comment from Izzy or Clary to have Alec pulling strings to have him gone. 

Izzy quickly walked towards the computers to check for some lab results they’d gotten from the technicians working on the latest crime scene. Isabelle Lightwood was Alec’s younger sister, and the only person he’d define as “love of his life”. She was strong and stubborn in the Lightwood way, and Alec couldn’t help but be incredibly proud of her every move. 

There was something he felt towards his family that he never felt with anyone else. He loved them, and they loved him, and his siblings were the only ones that could make him relax or make his heart swell in his chest.

Alec was the eldest, but not by much, and he was definitely the most… serious. He never knew if it was just how he was, or if it was the product of the way he’d been brought up. Either way, Alec Lightwood was not a “cool guy”. He didn’t hang out with people, he didn’t date, he didn’t drink. He worked until he fell asleep on his files, and then drank four shots of espresso to stay awake in the morning. 

He wasn’t being unhealthy, really, he was just… not made for being young. He’d never been young. His life had been spent protecting his younger sister and even younger brother from their father, and making sure they grew up with someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge them the second a non-conservative opinion came out of their mouth. Often, he thought that he was still doing it now, not only with Izzy and Max anymore, but also with Clary, and maybe even Jace.

Alec sighed and reached for a cup of coffee on one of the desks. He took a sip and winced -- it was cold and incredibly bitter. 

“Detective Garroway will keep an eye on our suspect,” he announced to his team. “Now, we need to go search his place.” 

Immediately, both Jace and Clary stood up. Alec reached for his coat and slid it on, checking for his wallet and keys. Izzy grabbed a paper off a pile and handed it to him. 

“Warrant.” She explained before grabbing her gun. In a few minutes, everyone was out of the door, carrying empty evidence bags and gloves. 

 

\-----

Alec didn’t know what he had been expecting when he walked into the psychic’s apartment. Maybe a mess of books, a hoarder’s lair, something he could link to the prejudice he held against psychics, the dirty, manipulative humans that they were. 

The windows were high and sun streamed through them, projecting a golden light onto the rugs that covered most of the hardwood floor. There was a low coffee table that looked old and worn out at the center of the living room area. Said area was delimited by three low couches, that looked more like piles of mattresses and pillows than anything else. And a cat was napping there. 

The entire room radiated a feeling of comfort, the wooden furniture adding to it. There were plants, small wispy shrubs with shiny leaves that seemed in need of a trim, as well as more flowery ones. Seeing this, Alec felt as if he had accidentally stepped into the home of a mythological being. The air smelled of something soft and comforting. 

“Let’s split,” he ordered, and Clary, Izzy and Jace started going through the furniture and the drawers. They didn’t bother being gentle. 

Jace headed to the kitchen and rummaged through the spices and the teas for… something. He grabbed all the knives that could have been used for the murders, and slipped them into evidence bags. He considered, then, his job done and walked towards the couch. His attention turned to the grey cat that was sleeping there. Or pretending to sleep. 

“Look at this sweetheart.” Jace cooed, and started petting the cat. Who did not appreciate it one bit. There was a violent jerk from the animal and a loud noise of anger. It was immediately followed by a string of curses from the blond and the cat ran off into another room. 

Alec shook his head as he walked into the study, and started going through the books, and going through the decks of tarot cards, and the stones, and the plants that were neatly stacked there. There was something about this place that both settled and unsettled him. 

This wasn’t the home of a murderer; he could feel it in his bones, and the fact that he felt this strange serenity and satisfaction at the sight of the stacks of crystals made him both sigh in relief, and hate every moment of his search. 

He tore through the papers on the desk, maybe trying to distract himself from it all by being a tiny bit more violent than he should. Ink spilled, splattering his clothes with little specks of black and he cursed. “Fucking weirdo.” 

Izzy left Clary to take care of the living room and started going through the bedroom. It was very minimalistic, probably more of a guest bedroom than anything else. A mattress on the floor, white sheets, an extra blanket, and that was… pretty much it, really. She went through the bedding and the few books next to the bed, and gave the potted plants and the candles in the corner a quick once over, finding nothing, only the cat, who’d taken refuge on his master’s bed and was watching her. 

The bathroom showed more use, but again, nothing interesting for her. Makeup, and skincare products, nothing out of the ordinary. Someone could have argued that the makeup was sign of a woman’s presence. But she wasn’t that someone. 

When she walked out into the living room, empty handed, she caught sight of Clary, holding a paper cutter in an evidence bag, and staring at pictures that were pinned to the wall. 

“What are you looking at?” 

“His friends,” Clary said. “Or his family. We need to interrogate them, too; they might know something.” Her voice was wistful, her gaze fixed on a picture of two women kissing at their wedding -- something she hoped would be her future with Maia. 

“You’re being very gay, Fray,” Izzy teased, smiling at her friend and colleague. Clary blushed, and started picking the pictures to take them back to the evidence table as well.

“I am very gay, after all.” They both laughed as Alec walked back into the living room. The team regrouped, and bagged a few other things --Bane’s laptop and any other electronic device they could find. They’d give it over to the IT specialist later on. 

Alec grabbed a tissue to wipe the ink he still had all over his gloves. “I checked the other bedroom and bathroom, but there’s nothing much. Weird crystals in the study, but no tape, or rope, or anything that could have been used for the murders.” He reported, and everyone else had come to the same conclusion. Either Bane was very good at hiding his crimes, or he was innocent. 

“We’ll need to interrogate those who could be complicit, so once we’re back to the hotel room, we need to take care of…” He stopped for a moment and checked his notes. “Catarina Loss, Dorothea Rollins, and Ragnor Fell.” 

Jace huffed and looked at him. “I got some knives. Nothing much. This guy is probably a freak. Have you seen all the witchy crap he has everywhere? Batshit insane.” He got up off the couch he’d been lounging on since his adventure with the cat. 

“Actually, he’s not.” Clary hummed, sending a disapproving look to the blonde. “His mental health is good.”

“Care to explain how you know, Clary?” Alec asked, giving the apartment another once over. She chuckled in answer. 

“Checked his file. He was put under care at a mental facility three years ago, following an arrest. Public nudity. File says he started taking off his clothes and having what seemed to be an anxiety attack in the middle of the street. All the exams they did point to the conclusion that he’s entirely sane, if anxiety prone.” 

Alec rolled his eyes. “Even sane people can be serial murderers.” 

\-------

Sanity was actually currently escaping Magnus. Every minute spent fighting the emotions that threatened to take him down was sucking out his energy, they were howling around him, prying the cracks in his defense walls apart. They were everywhere and they were relentless. He licked his lips and shifted a little, reaching for the crystal that hung around his neck. 

He managed to get it in his hands, despite the cuffs. He needed something. Something to try and hold onto before he slipped completely. It was so hard to stay here, alone with those feelings. 

He pulled down the sleeves of his hoodie again, and tried to focus his breathing. If he could only calm down and relax, it would be better. 

Magnus closed his eyes, straightening his back, and letting his body fall into the position he usually took for meditating. This part was the easiest. He focused on every physical sensation, else than the feelings, that he could find.

The cuffs against his wrists, and his feet on the floor of the room. The way he weighed on the chair, and the softness of clothes against his skin. The feelings were still there but Magnus managed to focus on his breathing, on the steady rise and fall of his chest that whispered to him that he was okay, that he was still alive, and that he was going to make it. 

Sometimes, he just needed to trust in his own body a little more, relax the tense muscles at the back of his neck. The feelings could only get him if he let them. 

There was a moment, right there, in between a rise and a fall that his mind seemed to both expand and shrink on itself, and it felt good. It calmed him instantly. His limbs felt heavier, grounded, he felt the pull of gravity on his body, but his mind wasn’t subject to laws of physics and it could leave, it could dodge everything the room, and the precinct, was throwing at him. 

He heard footsteps in the corridor and his mind registered them, in an unconscious manner. He would have tensed at the sound of them, his fearful side taking control, but right now he was taking control, and it didn’t scare him. 

Anything the agent could say wouldn’t get to him. Magnus knew he was innocent. 

The door was opened and his eyes as well. It wasn’t the agent, and Magnus had to admit this was a bit of a relief. The agent was cold and abrasive, and accusatory. 

“Mr Bane. I’m Detective Garroway, NYPD,” the new man said. He was tall with black skin, and Magnus felt more at ease with him than with any of the agents or cops he’d seen today. He radiated a certain warmth and kindness. 

The man sat down in front of Magnus, taking a few pictures out of a file. Magnus recognized them instantly. They were his pictures. From his home. 

“You’ve been here for five hours. How are you holding up?” 

Magnus was alright right now, even if he could feel exertion in his bones. It wasn’t threatening to make him lose his sanity anymore, which was… a definite improvement, but Magnus still wasn’t in the best of moods. 

“I’m fine. This is just unnecessary. I am completely innocent.” He licked his lips. 

Detective Garroway raised an eyebrow, cautiously suspicious. It made sense, that he wouldn’t believe every word coming from Magnus’ mouth, but at least he was not outwardly accusatory. 

“The FBI has searched your apartment. They are currently checking the knives from your kitchen for evidence, as well as going through your laptop to verify your alibi.” 

Magnus appreciated that communication. He really did. 

“You’re going to ask me about my family, aren’t you?” He pointed at the pictures. He wished they were here right now. He wished they knew this was happening. 

“Your family? I was under the impression you had no relatives.” 

Magnus nodded. “Not blood family. But those people are my closest friends and I do consider them family.” 

This was already going so much better than the earlier interrogation. He understood this might have been a way to get him to be comfortable and slip up, but he was innocent. And now they encouraged him to speak about the people he loved the most on this earth. 

“Tell me about them.” The man pushed the picture of Catarina and Dot’s wedding forward. Magnus smiled softly at that. 

“Catarina Loss and Dorothea Rollins. Catarina is an ER nurse at Beth Israel Hospital. Dot owns an antiques shop. They are both psychics like me.” He shrugged. “We meet every Saturday afternoon.” 

The detective raised an eyebrow. “Psychics? Would you care to enlighten me on what you mean, by that?” 

Magnus sighed softly. That was the part he did not like. Explaining his gift to others always ended up with them laughing at him and calling him a liar. But, well. Anything for the investigation. 

“We possess a deeper understanding of the inner working of spirituality. All of us have different specialities but they can be simplified by saying, we can read people and events on a different level that that usually reached by the rest of the world,” he started, “This ability can be taught as much as it can be innate. In my case, and the cases of my friends, we were born with it.” 

The detective didn’t believe him, but Magnus expected that. 

“My gift is mostly based on my empathic abilities,” he continued. “My gift is sensing people’s emotions. Catarina is amazing at psychic healing, healing of the mind and a bit of the body. Dorothea is the best at future and past vision, including knowing ancestry, and Ragnor is good with spirits. I know it sounds like a child’s day dream, but I assure you it is quite a reality to me.” 

Garroway shifted and watched him with a still suspicious eye. “Show me then. I don’t believe in psychics, but if you are willing to show me, then I’m willing to think that maybe what just came out of your mouth wasn’t a lie.” 

That was surprising. He was offering his hand to Magnus, offering to bring some proof to the table, and that was very appreciated. Magnus nodded and reached to take the older man’s hand, opening his palm. 

Magnus hummed and started reading. He tried to focus on the details that would make all of this believable, not the generality. He started talking after a few moments.  
“Family is the most important thing to you,” he started. “There isn’t much you would not to do keep your family safe, even after the betrayal you suffered from someone you considered family.” It was clear in the broken line, that the betrayal still weighed heavily on the man’s heart. 

“You’re a caring person. You’re proud of your daughter. Your job matters to you, because of how you can bring justice to people. You want those who come through this precinct to feel like they have someone on their side, someone that supports and understands them, rather than not.” He stopped for a second. “You’re in love with a woman and have no idea how to tell her.” 

Garroway pulled his hand away with a start. Magnus could feel the uneasiness in the air. There was no more disbelief, but yes, of course it was awkward. A complete stranger knew those intimate things. 

“I…” The man started and was cut off when there was a sudden knock on the door. A short redhead in her mid twenties opened the door and smiled. “Detective, a word?” She asked. 

The detective nodded and stood up. He gave a look at Magnus. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be back as soon as possible with some news.”

Magnus nodded, and the man disappeared behind the door.


	2. II: Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sun:
> 
> Upright: Fun, warmth, success, positivity, vitality  
> Reversed: Temporary depression, lack of success
> 
> In the reversed position, the Sun indicates that you might have significant difficulties finding positive aspects to certain situations. The clouds might be blocking out the warmth and light that you need to progress. This might be preventing you from feeling confident and powerful. You may experience certain setbacks which are damaging your optimism and enthusiasm.

Magnus was tired. So tired. Exhausted from the hours spent in this room. The agents, and then the cop. It was… so exhausting. 

And now he was standing in front of the door of his apartment. He struggled to steady his breathing even more now. Silently, he prayed to every deity he could think of, that they hadn’t wrecked the carefully installed harmony of his home. 

He pushed the key in the lock and turned. He didn't like the energy already. It was polluted, coming from the inside, insidious too. He almost wanted to turn back and run, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

He stepped inside. Things were on the floor -- a deck of tarot discarded like it was nothing, the pillows from his sofas thrown haphazardly. The pictures of his family were gone, and he felt like a blow in his gut. Disgust and pity clouded the air, making it hard to breathe. 

Magnus closed the door behind himself. He wanted this all to go back to normal. If only he had magical powers, he’d cleanse the room and put the scattered pens back where they belonged. He leaned against the door and let himself slide down to the floor. 

Somehow, at that exact moment, Chairman came running into the living room, meowing loudly, making a bee-line for Magnus. The cat head butted Magnus’ leg, then went on to rub himself against his arm, against every part of his body that he could get close too. Magnus was immediately flooded by soft serenity, and comfort coming from the animal. 

“Oh my darling,” he whispered and picked the cat up, the animal curling up against his chest with a purr. Magnus buried his face in the soft fur and sighed. 

He was home, he was okay. He was out of there and he would be safe, eventually. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. Chairman smelled like a cat. Of course he did, he wouldn’t smell like anything else. 

They’d ruled him out as innocent. The agent - Alec Lightwood - had been angry though. He radiated scorn and pity, and disgust. Magnus didn’t like him much. He could understand why he was angry, he could understand many things, but he’d rather have basic human empathy. 

At least now, he would be okay. He would be alone. The deaths were terrible, but Magnus himself was safe. Sometimes, he needed to be selfish. 

He stood up, Chairman still cuddled against his chest, letting himself be carried around. He started with opening the windows, letting the afternoon air flow into his polluted home. He didn’t know what he would do without the gentleness of Chairman’s feelings. Break down, most likely. 

The room was messy. He wished he could tidy without moving. But he had to do it himself.   
He let down the cat, reaching to pick up a card on the floor. One from his favorite decks of tarot. The cardboard was cream, decorated with fine lines of black, the pattern filled in with dark green and dark red. 

He loved those cards so much. He’d spent hours, with his glasses on, drawing them, painting them. They were so delicate. This one… The Six of Swords. A woman, a child, and a rower, heading towards the horizon, six swords balanced on their tips at the bow of the frail boat. 

Magnus had drawn the woman to resemble his mother as best he could remember. She was long gone, but he’d managed to get some sense of familiarity in the features. The child looked like he had at that age. 

Maybe it was self-centered, to draw himself in his tarot, but he didn’t care, really. It was his deck. 

The Six of Swords was a card of change. Of rowing towards a better future, away from pain and turmoil of the past. It was also a card of reason over passion. How ironic, really, that it was the card he had in his hand today. 

Reason without passion was too cold to Magnus. He knew one thing and one thing only, from all these years spent feeling other’s feelings. People devoid of emotions were the greatest of monsters.

There was something unsettling about crossing someone who had no emotional signature. It was cold and it was terrifying. Magnus had only encountered someone like this once. A tall man who didn’t look uncommon. Magnus had followed him towards what he now knew was the turning point in his entire life. The day his gift had turned into a nightmare. 

He sighed, trying not to think too much about that day. It had been a long time ago. 

It took him an hour to clean everything up. Ink had been spilled in the study, and that was maybe the thing that was the most difficult to deal with. Otherwise, it was rather simple with some meditative podcast in the background, managing to calm himself and his heart rate. 

He was going to get back to his habits. And everything would be fine from now on. He moved to the kitchen to make tea. Chairman stayed close, almost always stuck to his ankle, supportive presence that made Magnus smile. 

The air was finally starting to clear, the nauseating way that the feelings swarmed becoming less and less intense. Magnus lit some incense, letting the cleansing smoke take over the apartment. He needed the soothing scents of sandalwood and white sage at this very moment. 

He’d turned off his phone on his way home. He did not want to deal with the world outside. The good thing was that his bedroom wasn’t as affected as the rest. It was for the best, really. He would be more likely to get some sleep, if he wasn’t being assaulted by the feelings. 

While he waited for the water to boil, Magnus went to take a shower and change into more comfortable clothes, clothes he hadn’t been wearing through hours of interrogation. He grabbed soft grey linen pants, tight at the ankles and loose on the legs, and a plain black hoodie, long and comfortable, that smelled good of the product he used for laundry. 

He stepped under the shower, letting warm water relax his body. He was tired, he realized, standing there, his hair plastered against his scalp. He had known he was tired for a while, but it was only now crashing down on him. He leaned against the cold tiles of the wall, pressing his forehead against them, trying to find some release from the headache that was blooming in his skull. 

Maybe he could just stay in his apartment forever, and forget the world outside. And never be taken to the precinct again. Mechanically, he reached for shampoo and bodywash. He’d drink his tea and cuddle his cat and go to sleep, he told himself as he washed. He didn’t have the strength to cook right now. 

After rinsing off again, Magnus stepped out of the shower and stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. His goatee was growing back; he’d forgotten to shave. Maybe he should keep it for a moment. He looked drained, too, bags under his eyes, skin paler than usual, losing its usual burnt gold shade. 

He dried himself off and pulled on the fresh clothes. The looseness of it all was comforting. Magnus pulled the hood over his head, and opened the door, watching as Chairman immediately got in, rubbing against his now bare ankles and feet. 

Tomorrow, he’d paint his nails again. The polish on his fingers was chipped, and the color on his toenails…was in way worse shape. Dark red. He could go with dark red on both. 

Once in the kitchen, he prepared a mug of tea, and went back to the sofa. The nagging sensation of his home being polluted by hostile signatures was still there, still a creeping presence that weighed on him. He wouldn’t have liked it under any circumstance, but right now, the exhaustion was making him way more sensitive. 

He could manage to isolate the worst of them, the one he recognized to be Alec Lightwood’s signature. The rest of them were mixed, forming more of a background noise for the man’s louder signature.

The bedroom was mostly unaffected, and thinking about it reminded Magnus that he should finish his tea and go to bed. Chairman would be with him and they would sleep. And Magnus could stop having a headache. 

He soon ended up curled under the white cover, Chairman close to his heart. The blinds were closed, and as he turned off the light, serene darkness enveloped him. He was safe. He was home. He could rest. 

As Magnus was finally falling into a much deserved sleep, Clary was walking into a bar she knew quite well. 

The Hunter’s Moon had an easy atmosphere that allowed for banter between friends, as well as it did formal clothing and celebrations. It wasn’t always packed, but it got some good traffic. There was more metal and wood than there was plastic around here, and most of all, it was warm. 

Clary didn’t only like it because she spent a lot of time here with her friends, it was also because of Maia, the bartender and Clary’s girlfriend. The two women’s eyes met as Clary walked to the bar to order a drink. 

Once upon a time, Clary had thought that if relationships were with men, she didn’t want one. What she wanted was a woman to love. For a long time, she hadn’t thought it was something she could have. It was only something for strange dreams. 

She’d still been trying to find a man that fill in the gap in her life, heart, and bed, but it had been… like searching for a needle in a haystack. So she had given up. 

During college, she’d decided to sign up for the FBI academy, instead of doing art. It had surprised everyone, really. Clary Fray had been that short, freckled girl with paint on her jeans for most of her life, and she had suddenly switched to something so wildly different. Shooting guns and getting in top shape. Chasing criminals. 

She herself didn’t fully know why she’d chosen that particular field. She knew one thing. She knew it had been caused by her mother opening up, finally, about her family. About her father, and a younger brother she hadn’t known she had. 

Her father was a monster, and she was glad she couldn’t remember him and what he did to her mother during the years they were together and married. It was partly because of that knowledge, that there were horrible people out there, that she’d chosen FBI. She wanted to help. 

Clary had always bottled up rage until it exploded, and a good way to get the rage out was beating up a punching bag, in the gym of her college campus. She’d punched, and punched, until one day she’d locked eyes with her. 

Maia Roberts, a marine biology student. Neither of them believed in love at first sight, and yet, a month after, they were making out on Clary’s bed, giggling in front of stupid tv shows, and Maia was helping her prepare for the physical exam.

They’d fallen in love in between counting pushups and grabbing a bite at the local burger joint. Maia was a cheddar and caramelized onions kind of girl. Clary was more blue cheese and bacon. They were good together. And they were happy. 

They were still happy now. Three years later, Clary found herself thinking more and more about what it would be like to get married -- to make official what she already knew, that there would never be anyone like Maia in her life. Izzy came pretty close, but she could only see her as a friend. 

Clary settled onto one of the high stools at the bar. She was still in her work clothes, black slim-leg suit pants, a white blouse and a tan leather jacket, matching her tan shoes. Comfortable, classy but fashionable. Her favorite denim jackets were too casual for work. 

Maia pushed a beer towards a customer before she walked towards her girlfriend, a grin slowly spreading across her face. 

“And what will it be for the gorgeous girl sitting at my bar?” she asked teasingly, leaning in to press a kiss to Clary’s waiting lips. 

It was a bit of an awkward angle, but neither of them cared. They were “stupidly in love” to quote Izzy herself. The other woman always stared at the happy couple with a sigh that screamed “I wish that were me”. 

Clary and Maia were indeed free from the drama of Izzy’s love life. It was always interesting to hear about it, how it was full of one-night stands and failed relationships, and lots of drinking. They were very domestic, especially compared to their friend. Weekends were spent watching Netflix, with Maia asking for a puppy every time something resembling a dog appeared on their screen. 

“How was your day, babe?” Clary asked, grabbing a bill out of her wallet to pay for the beer Maia was sliding towards her. Light, fruity, just the one Clary liked. “You’re such an amazing bartender, I don’t even have to order, it’s like you read my mind.” 

Maia laughed and looked at her. “Right, it’s exactly that. Mind reading powers. Definitely not having to suffer from your horrible taste in beer for 3 years, despite my desperate efforts to get you to drink something that’s locally produced.” 

“And yet, you somehow succeeded in making me drink…” She paused and peered at her glass. “Blonde lager?” 

Maia chuckled. “Congrats. You get to try again for free.” She replied. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people around and they could chat as much as they wanted. 

“Speaking of mind-reading, we interviewed a very strange guy.” Clary started. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone details of ongoing cases, but sometimes, she just couldn’t resist. As to not break even more rules by telling those things in publics they had their own code. It made it seem like Clary was working in HR in a big company. 

“Filling in for the latest position?” Maia asked and her girlfriend nodded. 

“A psychic, or so he said. Really strange, but he seemed like a very sweet guy. Not the person we’re searching for, though.” 

Indeed, Clary knew that Magnus Bane was innocent. She’d seen the interview tapes, and though Alec still mistrusted him, Clary suspected that the only offense Magnus had committed was not murder but challenging the way Alec saw the world. Alec was an intense, logical person, and Magnus’ world of spiritualism wasn’t the kind the team leader understood or appreciated. 

“A psychic? That’s interesting.” Maia mused as she wiped the counter. “They often are charlatans. Never really met one that was real, but they exist. In which category was this one?” 

“Pretty hard to tell,” Clary hummed. “Alec and Jace tend to think he’s one of the charlatans. After all, I understand them. Psychic abilities doesn’t seem like the type of thing that you can tangibly test.” 

“Your boss doesn’t believe in anything over than cold hard logic anyway. Does Izzy share his views?” Maia asked curiously. Izzy and her had bonded when the team, minus Alec, came for a drink. 

“She does not. But Izzy is into the occult. The most surprising ally of this man, that’s Luke.” She took a sip of her beer. Cool, nice beer. She sighed happily. “He told me that the guy did his… reading mojo thing and found out a lot. Things he wouldn’t have been able to know, even with a close surveillance of Luke’s life. Feelings.” 

Maia nodded, humming noncommittally. She, herself, wasn’t much of a believer in things like psychic abilities, everyday magic, karma, chakras… Those things weren’t tangible, and until she was proven wrong, she went with a neutral opinion. Cool for you if you believed, as long you didn’t try to convince her. 

That was probably the scientist in her. She’d studied marine biology in college, but… something hadn’t felt right with it. She couldn’t see herself in that field later, she couldn’t project herself, and it seemed like her fascination for the topic of her studies was purely in the interest realm. Not in the future career realm. 

She liked being a bartender. It was fun and she met a lot of different people. She was in no rush to find another job, or another plan. She was happy like this. Still looking into it… but happy. 

“What time will you be getting off tonight?” Clary asked, wondering whether or not she would go home and cook, waiting for Maia to come home, or if she would stay until the end of her shift. 

“Whenever you are…” Maia teased, smirking. The redhead rolled her eyes. 

“No, seriously. I need to know if we’re grabbing take out of if I’m making dinner.” 

“Well, it is your turn to cook,” Maia pointed out. “And do the dishes.” Clary grimaced. She’d forgotten about the dishes. Her girlfriend caught the sudden pout and chuckled. “Which means we could get take out… But you’re still going to go home. I’ll make it back later, and we can get Chinese food delivered and watch The Good Place. And then sleep. We have to go to the gym tomorrow, and you have work.” 

“You’re the best, babe. I’ll finish my beer and leave you to it.” Clary smiled and leaned over the bar again, kissing her girlfriend tenderly. What would she do in a world without Maia Roberts? Nothing much.

\---

Magnus woke up a few hours later, with the distinct feeling that something was out of place. He’d locked the door behind him, if he remembered correctly.

His eyes opened and he looked around his bedroom, taking in the light under the door, and the feelings around him. No one had been around him, which meant that… it probably wasn’t a burglary? He was too tired to think a lot right now. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. 

The feeling of something not being in place was still bothering him and he focused more on the sounds coming out from the living room. If he strained, he could hear some vague music.

Music? He didn’t remember turning on the radio, and it wasn’t his phone. This was getting stranger by the second and he did not like it. He would rather be able to sleep through the night and recover. Not be woken up by intruders again. 

He noticed Chairman was not snuggled against his chest anymore, but that was okay, it happened. It wasn’t what was bugging him.

He was too tired for anything like this. He sat up in his bed, somehow managing to roll out and get up without hurting himself or losing balance. He grabbed the blanket that was over his cover and draped it over his shoulders, before padding towards the closed door. 

Hushed voices were coming out of the living room, and the second he opened the door, familiar energies greeted him. The living room smelled nice of Ragnor’s soup. 

The lights were a bit too harsh for his liking and he squinted at the brightness. The three silhouettes that were hunched over his living room table, cards in hand, and the Chairman sitting on one of the two women’s laps, were none other than his best friends. 

“It lives!” Dot dramatically exclaimed, before standing up and going to hug him. 

Magnus was enveloped in warmth and softness, not only because her dress was made of a nice material, but because her feelings were welcoming him. He relaxed in her arms. She soon let go of him and Ragnor hugged him briefly. Catarina decided to pull him directly to the couch. 

Ragnor walked towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, and Magnus lost sight of what he was doing, as Catarina caught his attention. 

“Will you explain what happened to you today, Magnus Bane? We got a call from NYPD, and then you wouldn’t answer your phone.” She gave him an admonishing look and Magnus chuckled, looking down. 

“I… I was a suspect in a serial murder case… nothing big, I’m fine. You didn’t need to come over. I’m doing great.” 

Both Dot and Cat rolled their eyes in sync, a loud huff coming from Ragnor in the kitchen. Magnus knew he wouldn’t evade questions so easily, but well. He had tried. 

Magnus could feel the underlying tension in the room, behind Catarina’s words, and behind their smile. 

“You’re worried. You know I can feel it, right?” he pointed out, crossing his legs. 

Ragnor walked back towards the three others, a tray in his hands. In a royal blue bowl was his signature tomato soup, with a grilled cheese sandwich on the side. Magnus chuckled and looked at him. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Yeah. Right. Just eat it, and stop complaining. You’re pale as a sheet, Magnus” he grumbled, pushing the tray towards him before sitting down on the couch. 

Catarina sighed, looking at her friend. “We’re not empaths,” she said. “But we know something is up with you. You haven’t replied to our texts, our calls -- we were worried out of our minds.” Worry was clear in her voice and in the air around her. 

“I’m cleared. I’ll be fine.” He dismissed their concerns, preferring to turn his attention instead to biting into the sandwich. The gooey cheeses melted into his mouth. Ragnor was good with food, almost as good as Magnus was. But this was definitely worth waking up worried for his life. 

“Tell us about it. We got called, to bring us in to interrogation. And it’s still standing, we’re all going tomorrow.”

Magnus sighed. He was never going to manage to evade the questions. The fact that he wanted to evade them so much was worrying him a little. He rarely reacted like this, when it came to his friends. Maybe he was a bit more traumatised than he was expecting. 

“I was locked in a room, cuffed to a table, for six and a half hours,” he said flatly. “I thought I was going insane, there was pollution everywhere, now I’m exhausted. The FBI are on the case. I was interrogated by a man called Alec Lightwood.” 

Ragnor paused. “Lightwood? You sure about that name?” he asked. 

Magnus nodded, taking a sip of the soup. “Yeah,” he explained in between sips. “I’m sure. He was an asshole and kept acting as if I was guilty of all those murders. Why are you asking? Do you know the guy?” He frowned, staring at his friend over the bowl. 

“I have a client. Izzy Lightwood. Maybe his sister? Or his wife?” 

“Not married. No wedding ring, and no mark of any,” Magnus replied immediately. Dot caught the speed of the reply and chuckled. 

“Oh, you spent a lot of time checking his fingers,” she teased, smirking. “Sure he was that much of an asshole?” 

“God. I can keep it in my pants, thanks, Dot. No, he was just so aggressive. And kept talking with his hands. So… I was just… it was an easy target.” He rolled his eyes. 

Alec Lightwood had been very handsome. Gorgeous eyes, staring into Magnus’ soul, tearing him apart and making him vulnerable. It had been terrifying, but maybe those eyes looked different in another setting? Lightwood had to have some softness in him when he wasn’t on the clock. 

He shook his head. Dot was still looking at him with a twinkle in her eyes. As if she could hear his thoughts. Thankfully, none of his friends were mind-readers. That was one good thing about this group. Amongst all the other obvious things. 

He spent some more time fighting off the worry of his friends. It was comforting, yes, but he was all right. He didn’t need this right now; he was fine. Once the food as eaten, and everyone had finished talking, Magnus looked at the time. 

It was almost midnight, and they all had work the next day. Catarina had to go to the hospital, Dot to her antiques shop, and Ragnor to his psychic practice. Ragnor was the only one out of his three friends that made his living with his gift, just like Magnus. Well, not exactly like Magnus. 

Once they were all kicked out of the apartment and Magnus was alone, he turned off all the lights again, and went back to bed. Chairman came back to cuddle with him as he fell asleep. He felt much more at peace than it felt the last time he’d fallen asleep, like his friends had soothed some of the rawest parts of him, and didn’t wake up before the morning, this time. 

\--------

The alarm blared in Alec and Izzy Lightwood’s apartment the next morning. They’d been living together since Izzy had finished high school, renting their own two bedroom apartment. She was two years younger than he was, but had decided to follow him, even if it meant that she wouldn’t be on good terms with their parents anymore. 

Maryse and Robert Lightwood didn’t share the opinion of their daughter when it came to Alec. They were not very proud of their son. His choice of career may have been perfectly acceptable, even if a little too manual for them, but his sexuality wasn’t. They complained loudly to all their friends, talked endlessly about how they wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn in his choice to bring men home. Izzy still defended his sexuality tooth and claw every time she went home. Alec himself, had just given up on trying. 

Alec’s resignation in the face of the world was one of his major characteristics. What he couldn’t change, he didn’t rage against. He couldn’t change having to wake up early for work, so he did not complain much as he woke up and got out of bed. After all, it was common knowledge that an FBI Special Agent like him was always on duty. 24/7. 

He left his bed without looking back, only pausing to grab his phone and turn off the alarm. 6am. He’d slept three hours. He was used to this now. Work came before sleep, of course. He grabbed sweatpants and running shoes and went to the gym on the end of the block. 

Running in the morning cleared his mind, and got some endorphins rushing. It also allowed him to avoid Izzy’s horrible morning attitude, which was composed of mainly insults and swear words being thrown at every object, or living being in her vicinity. 

As he ran, he couldn’t help thinking back to the case. Most of the victims had been Clary and Izzy’s age. He didn’t feel as protective of the redhead as he felt of his sister, but it still worried him. Soon enough, the murderer would find out he was under investigation. What if he turned on his team? 

He turned up the speed of the treadmill and pushed his body further. He needed to get the frustration out of his system. Or at least, he needed to try. He didn’t think the looming knowledge that people were being murdered -- maybe even at this very moment -- ever left him anymore. He wondered what the psychic would have said about that. 

Magnus Bane was strange, and Alec found it difficult to comprehend the way the man saw life. He’d been in his apartment. Things there weren’t controlled for logic. Books in the bookshelves weren’t ordered in any kind of logical way. Not by subject - he’d seen an astrology book right next to textbook on Islamic symbolism throughout time in SouthEast Asian tapestry - nor by color, nor by size. It was less than efficient. 

Alec shook his head. Why was he thinking about his annoyingly innocent ex-suspect? He had way better things to do. Like going over the case files that he now knew by heart, or finishing his workout and going home to get ready and get Izzy. 

He got off the treadmill and checked the time. Almost 7. Perfect. An hour of running was all he needed to get himself started. And coffee. He hoped Izzy was already awake and had made coffee. He hated the mornings she slept through her alarm. 

He was quick to walk home, and high-fived his sister on the way through the kitchen. She was indeed there, makeup and hair done as she was still in pjs and drinking from her mug. He would never understand really why she did that. Something about being forced not to go back to bed once she had her makeup on. 

Alec slipped into the shower, washing his hair and shaving his stubble somehow at the same time. He’d come up with this time-saving routine months ago. Efficiency was his favorite thing.

“You should wear concealer for your dark circles. Or just sleep more than two hours,” Izzy called out from the kitchen as he headed for the bedroom to put on his suit. 

He sighed. “I’m not going to put on makeup. And I’m fine. You’ve made coffee?” 

He didn’t need makeup. He wasn’t the kind of person to wear makeup. The kind of man, especially. He was quick to put on one of his dark blue suits. He had several of them. Same brand, same size, so he didn’t always wear the same pants and jacket. He buttoned his white shirt and put on his tie. 

When he walked out of the room to go get breakfast, Izzy was back in her room. He hadn’t heard her earlier reply, but there was indeed coffee ready. He poured himself a cup and took his phone out again, going through emails. 

Bank. Work. Insurance. Gym membership. Spam. Trash. 

Izzy walked back into the room and grabbed toast from the toaster and threw a slice at Alec. He somehow managed to catch it. She then reached to turn on the radio. Nothing new on the news, despite its name. Trump was still being the worst fucking nightmare Alec could think of being in the White House, the world was still at war, everything was still shit everywhere. The update on the serial murders came on and both Izzy and Alec groaned loudly. 

They still listened to it, as if it was going to give them answers on their own investigation. They were fucked. Alec closed his eyes tightly, already feeling a headache coming. He just needed this horrible case to be over already. He could then sleep for a whole night, maybe take a day off, and move onto the next one. 

He was going to stand up, when his phone rang. 

The caller ID was one of his boss, Imogen Herondale, the deputy special agent in charge, responsible for Alec’s office. She only called if things were going very, very badly, and it made something in Alec freeze. He gulped and took the call, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Special Agent Lightwood, how may I be of assistance?” he said, and his voice must have sounded strange, because Izzy looked up from her phone, worry and curiosity written over her features. 

“Agent Lightwood, this is DSAC Herondale. We’ve gone over your last report for the New York serial murder case.” The woman on the phone sounded nothing more than cold and practical, something Alec usually liked about her. “You have new orders, concerning your latest suspect,” She paused, obviously reading the name somewhere. “Magnus Bane.”

“What are the orders, Deputy?” 

Izzy watched as her brother paled further and further the more he listened to the voice on the phone. She knew it was Herondale, but Herondale didn’t usually call for good news. Alec got paler, but the worry on his face was also replace by anger. 

When he put down the phone, it was with a definite anger in his gesture and Izzy raised an eyebrow. Alec closed his eyes again, pressing his fingers to the corners of his eyes, his lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“Is something wrong, Alec?” she asked, when she started worrying Alec might just explode due to the tension on his face. 

The man took a deep breath to calm himself and not snap and nodded at her. 

“Yes,” he said, and the anger was still there. “Something is wrong. Herondale just ordered us to set up close surveillance for Bane.” 

That was unusual. Bane’s part of the case was closed, and they should have to worry about him anymore. “What kind of close surveillance?” 

“The one that means Jace and I have to move in with him temporarily. Somehow, he’s a person of interest.” 

Alec stood up and walked back into his bedroom, under Izzy’s wide-open eyes. She carefully chose not to go after him, knowing that the pressure he was under these days made him way more irritated than he usually was. And Alec had never been pleasant.


	3. III: The Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Emperor:
> 
> Upright: Authority, father-figure, structure, solid foundation  
> Reversed: Domination, excessive control, rigidity, inflexibility
> 
> The Emperor, in his positive aspect, symbolizes law, structure, order, stability, disciplined relationships, being well-organized and realistic about your life.   
> In his negative aspect, the Emperor symbolizes inflexibility, laws that lag behind the reality on the ground, rules that ignore people’s real needs, relationships that succumb to expected roles, shallowness that pushes people to fit into gender, class, race and other categories, stripping people of their spiritual connection, spontaneity and joy.

Luke Garroway watched as the FBI agent he had to work with downed his fourth coffee. To be more exact, he was downing his fourth one since Luke had walked into the room. He didn’t understand how someone could drink so much caffeine. He didn't understand how someone could be so insensitive of others’ feelings. 

Alec Lightwood might be a very talented FBI agent, but he was unable to avoid stepping on people’s feet. Luke observed him thoughtfully, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the slight hollowness of his cheeks. He was worn out. That maybe explained his behavior. 

Luke sometimes worried about the young people that worked such draining jobs. The one that worried him the most was Clary. She was like a daughter to him, and seeing her tired smiles, and the pressure she was constantly under was hard. 

He’d blamed Alec for a while. He could be hard on his team -- he’d never hurt them intentionally, but he sometimes pushed them a little too far. Still, Luke knew he cared deeply for them, and would probably hurt himself before them. 

Luke sighed. “So you’re not going to tell him?” 

The younger man was opening his mouth to reply but he was cut suddenly by a blonde man walking into the room. 

“Who’s gonna tell who what?” 

Jace. Luke sighed again. He disliked Jace. 

The first thing he had heard about him was his behavior when Clary had been introduced to the team. He’d hit on her repeatedly, even if she had been very upfront about her sexuality and the fact she had a girlfriend. It was better now. There were still the occasional sneaked-in comments, but Clary didn’t complain anymore. 

Alec sighed loudly. “You and I are on close surveillance duty.” Luke could hear the irritation from his side of the room, and he didn’t need to look to know he was wincing at the very thought of having to be around Bane. 

Jace raised an eyebrow. “Surveillance of whom? Tell me it’s the hot girl who couldn’t stop begging for protection from last month.” 

This time, both Luke and Alec sighed loudly. “Magnus Bane. Yesterday’s psychic.” 

Jace made a face but didn’t comment. His phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket to reply. Luke raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know if Alec was waiting for an answer, but he would be expecting something. 

Jace pursed his lips once he was done texting. “Hmm. Yesterday’s psychic. We have to live with that whack job?” 

“Have you listened to a single thing I’ve said, Jace?” Alec snapped, standing up and walking out of the room, towards the break room which had a functioning coffee machine.   
The room where the FBI team had settled was technically a break room too, but it was never used because of the lack of coffee machine and vending machine. 

Luke followed him out, but didn't go for the coffee machine. In truth, he didn’t know what to say to the man. The agent was always so strung up and ready to snap. He went back to his own desk and started going through paperwork. 

He worked for a while before he heard footsteps coming his way and looked up to see Clary walking towards him. 

“Hey, Clary. How are you?” 

She sat down on the chair was usually for perps and sighed. “Alec’s riding my ass. We don’t have leads and it’s not my fault.” 

Luke had a small chuckle. “I’m sure he knows that. Your boss seems to be under a lot of pressure though.” 

Clary rolled her eyes. “He’s always under a lot of pressure. It’s not an excuse anymore,” she muttered. “Besides, we all are under pressure. We have no suspect, and a murder should happen any second now.” 

“So there is a schedule?” 

It was difficult to believe but yes. There was. A schedule to the madness that was serial murdering. Clary nodded. “Yes. Every 23rd and 29th of each month. Yesterday was the 29th of May, so I’m guessing there is a new body somewhere. Unless Bane was really the killer, but I doubt it.” 

Luke smiled a little. “I doubt that too. He wasn’t a killer.” 

The young woman chuckled. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought that.”

Luke shrugged. “Lightwood might have a lot of things to say about Bane, but, he isn’t a killer. He was shaking like a leaf the entire time he was here. That’s maybe not concrete proof, but I’ve seen enough horrible people in my life to know that soft eyes never lie.”   
“He does seem like a soft person. His place feels nice.” Clary shrugged. It was a weird, almost creepy comment, if no one knew the context of it, and her job. “It’s warm and cozy, and a bit messy. It’s a carefully constructed harmony.” 

Luke chuckled. “I guess it must be,” he muttered noncommittally. “But you have evidence that prove he’s innocent. So I was right, you were right, and your boss was seeing the Devil in everything.” 

“He does that when he’s desperate to solve a case. It has some benefits. It helped us some time ago. It’s the tenacity that comes with the suspicion. He doesn’t let go of some leads. He’s probably only half-pissed at the idea of going into close-surveillance at Bane’s.” 

“Right,” Luke nodded. “So Jace and him are moving in?” 

“One week of Jace, and one week of Alec. And again and again until Herondale tells us to stop,” Clary explained. “Only the men, since he’s a man. Standard procedure so the POI doesn’t feel uncomfortable, and we don’t either.” 

“Well, at least you get to sleep at home with your girl...” Luke trailed off, a twinkle in his eyes, and Clary blushed and chuckled. He started again. “Speaking of Maia, are you going to take the plunge?” 

Clary took a deep breath, looking up at the man she considered a father. Luke knew that she was planning to propose soon. He also knew she didn’t know when. Maybe she was afraid that Maia would refuse, though the older man doubted it. He’d seen the two of them together, and Maia was as deeply in love with Clary as Clary was with her. 

“I saw a ring yesterday, and I think i’m going to buy it. Waiting for this month’s paycheck, and then I’ll go get it.” Clary smiled. 

Before Luke had time to ask her anything else about it, there was a loud “Fray, crime scene” shout, that resounded through the walls. Clary stood up immediately. 

“I’m going to leave you, or they will leave without me,” she said, already walking backwards towards the door, to keep contact with Luke as long as possible. “We’ll talk later, bye!” she called, before disappearing from view. 

Luke chuckled and looked back at the paperwork in front of him. He couldn’t help but think about the man, with the soft eyes. Bane. He was going to have a handful of pissed FBI agent Alec Lightwood in his home by the end of the day, and the cop didn’t wish that on anyone. Especially without prior notice. 

He decided to do his duty and warn the poor soul before it was too late. It was the least he could do. He opened up the software through which the NYPD files were accessible, and searched for the file they had on Bane. Even if it was an FBI case, they still had a record of his arrest and interrogation. From there, he got his phone number, and dialed it. 

It didn’t take long for the man to pick up. 

“Magnus Bane? Yes, Detective Garroway speaking, I interviewed you yesterday?” 

\---

The engine was already started when Clary got into the SUV. Alec was behind the wheel, and that was not a surprise. Izzy was sitting next to him and Jace was at the back with Clary. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, not having been briefed with the others. 

“Williamsburg, Brooklyn,” Izzy informed her, running her hand through her hair. “Isn’t it around where you live, Clary?” 

Clary lived in Greenpoint, slightly more north than Williamsburg, and had even been born in Greenpoint, if she remembered what her mother had told her. She told Izzy just that, as she looked at the cars on the street beside them, thoughtfully. 

The precinct wasn’t that far from the crime scene, but they were currently stuck in traffic. Another murder, adding to an already long list, was putting everyone on edge even more than usual. 

“Great,” Alec grumbled. “Now we’re stuck in traffic, so why don’t you tell us some childhood stories, Fray?” He had a certain snappy tone that didn’t really encourage Clary to say much. 

“Alec, come on,” Izzy rolled her eyes and swatted at his arm. Alec sent her a warning glance. He wasn’t touchy-feely. He just wanted this mess to be over, and that was something everyone could sympathize with. 

“What? She could tell us where to get some coffee, we’re stuck in traffic and we’re already losing time, so we could lose even more time by getting a drink somewhere instead of doing our job.” Alec shook his head, glaring.

“You need to relax, dude,” Jace commented and Clary sighed, closing her eyes. This was really not the thing to say right now, but she understood that Jace wanted to add something to the conversation. 

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” the team leader replied. Yet, everything screamed that he wasn’t.   
“You sound tense, I’ll admit,” Izzy pointed out teasingly. and Alec swallowed, his grip on the wheel growing tighter. Izzy bit her lip. She should know better by now, that Alec was never really in the mood for some teasing.

“Izzy...” He sighed heavily, trailing off and not adding anything else. 

Jace and Clary shared a look, in which she tried very hard to communicate to him that he shouldn’t add fuel to the fire right now. Alec sounded and looked tense enough without Jace’s nagging. 

Unsurprisingly, Jace paid her warning glances no mind. 

“It’d be better for you and us if you relaxed, bro. You’re awfully tense and it’s making it hard for all of --” 

Jace was cut off in the middle of his sentence. as a spot in a lane that was going a little faster opened up. It was just in front of them, but at an angle that would be difficult for them to slide in. Alec was having none of anyone’s shit this morning, including God’s and His attempt at keeping them in traffic indefinitely. 

The engine roared and the car jerked forward, as he skillfully, but still dangerously, cut the car that was going to take the coveted spot. Everyone inside the SUV held onto the nearest part of the car they could find, panicked yelps resounding. 

They managed to somehow make it to the next lane and start driving a little faster. Everyone around them was honking away in anger and fear, but Alec just grumbled a swear or two under his breath. 

“I’m sorry, Jace, you were saying?” he asked, sending the other man a look through the rear view mirror. Jace just waved him off quickly. He didn’t want to reply to that. It would only make things worse.

Izzy reached to turn on the radio, to try to relax everyone. It didn’t really work, but at least, she was trying. In the new lane, they managed to get to the crime scene faster than expected, to everyone’s relief. Clary’s grip on the door was white-knuckled as she stepped out. 

The body was carefully laid down, eyes closed. Her arms were spread on either side of her body, her hair displayed around her head like a crown. The woman would have looked peaceful if her mouth wasn’t stuck in a macabre grimace, and if her wrists, ankles, and throat didn’t bear the purple marks of too-tight rope. 

Clary and Izzy shared a look. It was sad; the woman was young, in her early twenties, like all the victims. What felt even sadder, was that the sight of this was something they were all used to. Jace handed around the gloves and bags so they could start bagging and tagging evidence. 

The blond man crouched next to the victim while Alec was examining her. He nodded appreciatively. Before the team leader could snap at him to “be appropriate for once, damnit Jace”, he pointed at the necklace. 

“That’s really pretty. And unique. I’ll take it and see if someone can tell us who bought it for her. Maybe it’s evidence.” He gently took off the necklace and slipped it into an evidence bag. Alec shrugged at him, letting him work. 

It was a usual job. Alec made a beeline for the information he needed. Izzy took Jace’s place next to the body, and started going through the usuals. She was dead by strangulation, one lock of hair gone, the top of the woman’s dress ripped around the stomach. Alec noted it down diligently.

The technicians started to come to help Izzy. She gave them an approximate time of death, and let them take the temperature. Alec listened carefully -- he might be used to this modus operandi, but he wasn’t a bad agent. 

On his notepad, he wrote down any kind of interesting sign. There was a stamp on the back of her right hand, a stamp Izzy identified being from a club. He wrote that info down. The design of it looked familiar so he noted that down too. 

He had clipped his tie to his shirt with a simple pin, as to not have it accidentally get on the evidence. Izzy had stopped teasing him about that. They all had their little habits before a crime scene. Izzy tied her hair up, Jace put his phone on silent, Alec clipped his tie and Clary redid her laces. 

Jace and Clary were soon done with their part and started canvassing the two buildings on each side of the alley the body was in. Maybe someone had heard or seen something. It was unlikely. The killer had never been heard, and the only witness testimony they had was speaking of “a tall guy”. No hair color, no clothes, nothing interesting.

Izzy decided to break the silence, as Alec was finishing his search of the scene. “How are you feeling about tonight?” 

“Tonight?” Alec looked perplexed for a moment, before he shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t avoid it, so I guess I’m slowly accepting it.” 

“You guess? Your own feelings?” 

Alec closed his eyes for a second and shook his head, irritation written on his features again. Izzy saw that look way more often than she would like. The stress of this case was aging her brother, and every day he looked a little sadder, a little heavier. She couldn’t do anything to stop it, and it was scary. 

“Yeah. I’m guessing my own feelings. I’m not even that pissed off anymore.” 

His tone sounded final, and Izzy knew better than to add anything. 

\---

Magnus was sitting there, at eight in the evening, feeling the bliss of an incredibly soft blanket on his shoulder and around his entire body. Even Chairman’s fur wasn’t as soft as the blanket. And that was saying something. 

The detective he’d met during his arrest had called back this morning to warn him of the FBI’s impending arrival in his home. He didn’t know what to think of it. 

He wanted to take in as much silence and alone time as he could before they stormed in with their heavy feelings that would pollute everything he owned. It was pretty obvious that Magnus was not looking forward to having them here. 

Especially knowing that the FBI agent he’d gotten along so badly with would be staying with him first. Alec Lightwood, if he remembered correctly. Tall, handsome, very suspicious, and definitely disgusted by the very idea of Magnus’ existence. Cohabitating would be a pleasure. 

He gently scratched behind his cat’s ear, the animal shifting a little against his leg. Magnus smiled softly. As long as he had the Chairman, everything would be fine. If something happened, he could still hide in his bedroom with the soft presence of the cat. 

He’d found Chairman the month he’d gotten out of the mental ward. It had been hard, re-adapting to the outside world when everything was so much worse than it had ever been. He’d spent several weeks stuck in his apartment, refusing to go outside, too afraid of the assault of feelings. 

His only human interaction had been the delivery man who came to his door to get him some food and his groceries. 

One day there had been a scratching at the door, from the tiny claws of a tiny cat. Chairman had always been small and soft. And from the day they’d met, he hadn’t left Magnus alone. Sometimes, the man wondered why Chairman had chosen to stay with him. Did he like him? Or was he only interested in the tuna cans Magnus fed him? 

Years later, they were still here, curling at night on the same mattress, grey fur against Magnus’ nose. It tickled. 

Lost in thoughts, Magnus had stopped scratching him, so Chairman reminded him with a head bump against his hand. Magnus chuckled. “Of course you deserve way more than a few scratches, how dare I stop.” 

He was just about to start scratching again, when the doorbell rang. Almost immediately after, someone knocked at the door. No patience. Magnus rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. 

He opened the door. Alec Lightwood was standing there, with another guy who seemed to be working with him. Dark-hair, glasses, pretty inoffensive looking. 

“Bane. This is Simon Lewis. He’s gonna take care of the wiring around here. Just in your living room, just in case something happens when we’re at work.” 

Alec Lightwood spoke coldly and Magnus was already regretting having opened his door. He would have probably broken it down to get in though, so Magnus guessed he just had to endure. He let the two men in. 

“You’ll thank Detective Garroway for the warning.” Magnus pointed out, giving the man a smile. 

The agent was carrying a duffel bag that was probably full of clothes and things that he needed to stay over for a week. His colleague, Jace Herondale, would take over then. Magnus had no idea if he should be grateful. 

“I… Yes. I will. You’re welcome.” Alec sounded taken aback. That combined with the surprise on his features led Magnus to think that he probably hadn’t been aware of Garroway’s warning call. 

While the wire technician was working on his living room, kitchen and study, Magnus led the agent into the guest room. He didn’t like what the air was like around them. It was heavy now. There was a clear disdain wafting off the agent. He didn’t want to be here. 

“You didn’t have to show me. I know the place,” said Alec simply, looking around himself. The room hadn’t changed a bit since his inspection. Good. It meant the man wasn’t hiding anything. 

“Right. I forgot you were here before,” Magnus muttered. “I suppose showing you the bathroom is not needed.” 

He couldn’t help but sound slightly bitter. He took a deep breath. Keep calm, keep a smile on, Magnus. Just pretend you’re not in a murdering mood. He just wanted to stay as far away from the man as possible. 

Alec hummed as a reply. He turned his back to the man and started getting things out of his bag. Everything was neatly folded and his toiletries were basically the same color, which made Magnus raise an eyebrow. So much order. 

“So, the house rules are simple. Don’t go into my bedroom and bathroom.” He shrugged. Those were simple rules to follow. Nothing strict. Magnus wasn’t forbidding the access to anything that important. 

“I’ll go there if I need to. You’re still a suspect to me, Bane. If I see the need to go and search your things again, I will.” 

The man didn’t even look at Magnus when he spoke. Something sank in his gut and he swallowed. He needed to keep his cool. 

“That would be violating my privacy, and you know it.” 

The man shrugged again, clear disdain coming out of him and it was enough to push past Magnus’ limits completely. He couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“I’m sorry. I need to leave.” 

He didn’t let the agent reply anything. He didn’t even know if he was going to reply. He rushed out of the guest bedroom, and past the guy who was basically bugging his home. The agents invading his home without even looking slightly apologetic, the way they walked around as if they owned the place was making him pissed out of his mind. So he walked out. He grabbed his coat, put on some sneakers, and walked out. 

The street was loud, full of noise and feelings, but he didn’t care. He needed out. 

He had his phone and earbuds, sweatpants and sports shoes, so he made a beeline for his gym club. He liked going there. Contrary to what one might think, gyms were not an overwhelming place for Magnus. It was intense. Not in a bad way. The feelings all had the same tone. It was a bit loud, but it was harmonious enough to be manageable. 

He pushed the door of the club, slid his membership card to get into the locker rooms, and quickly made his way into the cardio room, where he could run a while and calm his shaky limbs. He didn’t know if he was furious or if he was hurt, but it was bad, and he needed to get it out of his system, before he went back and had to cook for this asshole.

He usually did not run in sweatpants. It was either shorts, or running leggings that clung to his legs. He didn't have time to change though. It was fine. Just clothes. As long as he could work it out, what he was wearing didn’t matter. 

Running was his favorite thing to do in the gym. He did other exercises too, worked on his entire body, but running was his favorite. It was perfect to clear his mind and body from tensions and focus on himself. Ignoring the chaos around to center on himself was hard sometimes. 

It made being around people considerably more difficult. Especially when it came to romance. He’d had a few relationships in his life, but the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied them were always difficult to manage. Knowing what your partner felt all the time was dangerous, because nothing could be hidden. And everything hurt so much more. 

He closed his eyes and kept running. His legs were starting to burn. It was fine, just the sign that he was nearing the end of his first wind. 

Simon finished wiring Magnus’ living room, study and kitchen after an hour of work. The recordings from the cameras and bugs would be used both to keep Magnus safe, and to see if maybe the murderer or a future victim, came for a reading. 

It had been Izzy’s idea. It would make Alec and Jace’s presence slightly more useful, and could constitute an advantage for the team, something they were so desperate to have. The killer had always been several steps ahead of them, for the last few months. 

It drove all of them crazy. They knew when the murderers were going to happen but they hadn’t been able to prevent it yet. They couldn’t possibly put all women between twenty and twenty-five years old in New York City under constant surveillance. So they just had to pray there would be something linking the women later on. 

Simon waved goodbye to Alec who was now awkwardly sitting on the couch. The cat was lying down on the other side of it, staring at the man in a way that made something in Alec want to run away, fast. He didn’t know what he had done to anger the animal, but he guessed that trying to pet it right now would result in casualties. He did not want to lose his fingers. 

The apartment was quiet in a way that unsettled him. Alec was used to Izzy watching TV or putting on some music, and the silence of this place, as well as the loneliness, was strange. He was used to Izzy having a social life, to her going out, but he usually stayed at work when she went out, so as not to stay in the empty apartment. 

He looked back at the cat. It hadn’t moved an inch except for the tip of its tail, constantly in motion. The unblinking stare of the animal’s yellow eyes made Alec uneasy, as if he was trapped. He guessed the cat didn’t like the fact that he was here at all. 

It seemed like Magnus Bane wouldn’t be the real problem in Alec’s surveillance. The problem would be the cat. 

Alec had no idea how long he sat there, completely still, and under the cat’s glare. Maybe he should make something to eat for the psychic and him. And the cat. He didn’t know if he was really allowed to. Bane had told him the bedroom and bathroom were off limits, but not the kitchen. 

He thought back to what had caused the man to storm out and sighed loudly. He probably should have been a little more sensitive on that one. The look of hurt on Bane’s face was replaying in his head. Oh well. Story of his life. Alec hadn’t always been as he was described now, cold and insensitive. He’d been soft and young too, once. It felt like a long time ago.

He wasn’t old, only twenty-seven, but he felt older. And more tired than he should be. He’d heard so many times how he should be, and how he should feel -- he should be happy, he should be in love, he should be in a relationship, he should be thinking about a proposal. 

He’d had relationships. He’d had sex. It was all too complicated, though, at least for him. Every relationship he’d had could be described as “things he should have done but didn’t do”. Maybe that was why they weren’t appealing to him. There were too many expectations that he couldn’t fulfill.

Alec Lightwood wasn’t one to put someone before work. People died if he did. He couldn’t understand why someone would ask him to do that, because it caused death. A death he could have prevented, if he hadn’t been on a date with Matthew in some cheesy Italian restaurant made for tourists. 

So he was single. It was fine with him. He had Izzy. He didn’t need anyone else; he only rarely yearned for it. Maybe sometimes, on terrible bad days, where the world felt like it was crashing down on him without letting him breathe, where he felt like he was drowning. Those were the days when he started wishing someone would smile at him and hold him when he walked home. Those were the days he longed for someone who would tell him it was okay, and he was okay, and loved, and sometimes things didn’t work out and that was okay, too. He couldn’t save everyone. 

He wanted someone who would understand, not someone who would blame everything on him. He didn’t need another load on his shoulders. 

Alec shook himself out of his thoughts. Right now was not the time. Later. When he was home, not here. For now… he should call Bane. Ask him if he wanted to come back. Maybe even apologize. It wasn’t Bane’s fault after all. He might be a weird guy who probably manipulated people for a living, but… he hadn’t asked for Alec be there. 

He stood up. The cat was still watching him but Alec paid him no mind. He walked into the guest bedroom and grabbed his notepad to get Bane’s number. He slid his phone out of his pocket and dialled, putting the object between his ear and shoulder so he could put the notepad back in place. It rang for a moment, and finally, Bane picked up. 

“Hey, it’s Lightwood.” Alec licked his lips. Words were escaping him right now, and he just didn’t know how to start his sentence. “You’ve been out for a while. Sorry for my earlier outburst.” Was that enough? Probably not, but Alec didn’t know what else to say. “It was cruel of me. I’ll tell -- I’ll ask you if I need to go through your things, and you’ll have every right to refuse.” 

There was a pause. Alec could hear the man panting, but no answer. He furrowed his brows in concern, but waited. 

“Thank you,” Bane replied. He sounded out of breath, and surprised. 

“Where are you?” Alec asked. He didn’t want to stay alone for too long, and he worried he wasn’t doing his job correctly if he wasn’t, you know, actually where Bane was. 

“I’m at the gym. I just wrapped up, though, so I’m going to head home.” 

It was strange to speak like that with someone. Alec didn’t know what to say. It was a bit like talking to Izzy, but also really, really different. Alec was in Bane’s home. Hearing it mentioned like that felt like he was intruding. He looked down, a little conflicted. He didn’t know how to feel. He was doing his job. He wasn’t intruding, he was working, Bane should be thankful Alec was there. Exactly that. That was how it should be. Bane grateful, Alec focused. 

“All right. I’ll be waiting.” He hung up almost immediately.


	4. IV: Wheel of Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheel of Fortune:
> 
> Upright: Good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point  
> Reversed: Bad luck, negative external forces, out of control
> 
> The Wheel of Fortune can indicate a vision or realization that strikes with great force. If you've been struggling with a problem or tough situation, this card can signal that you will find the answer if you stand back and view everything from a larger perspective.  
> It also represents unexpected encounters and twists of fate. You can't predict surprises; you can only be aware when one is circling around. When the energy of the Wheel arrives, you will feel life speed up. You are caught in a cyclone that may deposit you anywhere. "Round and round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows."

Sleeping with the knowledge that someone was in the apartment hadn’t been easy. Chairman had been as restless as Magnus, and it had been a bad night of tossing and turning, of choking on his own anxiety. 

The agent had apologized on the phone the night before, and it had sounded genuine. He had still been acting closed off around Magnus, but the psychic understood. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation. Yet they were. 

He was woken up early in the morning by the sound of the man’s alarm. Chairman was still snuggled against his side. It was unusual. The cat had the habit of leaving him alone during the night, knowing Magnus was calm and soothed enough. His presence that morning was probably due to the unknown human that had invaded their home. 

Poor kitty. Magnus shifted, closing his eyes and burying his face a little more into the pillow. It smelled like lavender oil and he wanted to stay forever in that cocoon of softness. Chairman moved as well, to go lie down on one of Magnus’ pillows, next to his head. 

The man cracked an eye open, looking at his companion. He wished he could go back to sleep and wake up without the agent there, and without the anxiety that was coiling in his throat. 

He huffed and closed his eye again. There was too much light for his taste in the bedroom. It was really his fault, for choosing to paint his walls white and have white sheets and a mirror. The light was reflected from every surface, and right now? It was too much. 

Usually, the white canvas of his bedroom was relaxing. The absence of colors lessened the sensory stimuli, and allowed him a well-deserved rest from the chaos of the outside world. It was great for his easily-overwhelmed empathic mind. 

At this exact moment, his morning self was regretting everything his empathic mind had ever wanted. He just wanted to sleep. Yet he knew that Alec Lightwood was not going to allow him such comfort. 

Technically, he could stay in bed. There was nothing really preventing him from hiding in his bedroom until the man was gone for work. But he didn’t trust him in his home. He couldn’t. It was the man who had shrugged and said he would, without a second thought, invade his privacy. He might have apologized, but the words were still clear in Magnus’ mind. 

“Five more minutes,” he muttered to himself, pulling up the white sheet over his body and grabbing the fluffy gray blanket that was on top with it. 

He was going to have to cook for the agent. There was no way he was trusting him around his kitchen. It was his home. Make him breakfast, and make him lunch and dinner, and this coercion into domesticity really wasn’t to Magnus’ taste. It wasn’t that he hated cooking for people. He loved that. He could spend hours making a meal, or baking cookies for the tea parties his friends and him organized. He just didn’t want to do it for someone who wouldn’t appreciate it. 

He heard the shower start running. The radio was on as well, blasting the news loud enough to be heard over the shower. Magnus sighed. He really didn’t want to get up yet. 

The shower was slightly smaller than the one Alec had at home, and he didn’t like the sudden change in his usual motions. He couldn’t shave in there either. He was used to having a small mirror in the shower, to increase the efficiency of the time he spent there. 

He just sighed heavily. The radio on his phone wasn’t loud enough for him to hear over the shower, and it was annoying him. Nothing was working the way it should be. 

Bane’s guest bedroom was surprisingly nice. Alec had briefly seen the man’s bedroom during their search, but it was only now striking him how different they were.Nothing made sense in this apartment, really, but this was probably the thing that made the least sense. 

The guest bedroom was decorated. There were plants and pictures, and a cozy little armchair by the bed. It was a nice bed as well, with metal railing painted black. It was all very comfortable and stylish, but it looked like a picture in a magazine. 

Bane’s own bedroom was entirely different. There was no bed to speak of, just two mattresses laid down on the wooden floor. There were no pictures on the wall, just a big ikea closet and a tall mirror with the simplest frame. It didn’t make sense. 

It was like he’d spent all of his money on the guest bedroom and had only left scraps for his room. It was very strange. Alec would have given himself the most comfort, had he been in the situation. Or why hadn’t he simply started sleeping in the guest bedroom? 

Alec knew it didn’t matter, that he was fixating on unimportant details, but it just added to the strangeness of being here.

He got out of the shower and shaved. There was no need to rush that much, he realized. His alarm was still set for him to have time to go to the gym. Not only did he not have to go to the gym now - his gym being far from the man’s apartment - , but Bane’s apartment was actually somewhat closer to the precinct than his own. This place had perks. 

Once dressed, he walked out into the bedroom and started gathering his things for the day. They were exactly where he had left them earlier, without surprise. A part of him had thought that they would have moved. He was sleeping at a psychic-magic-person’s home. He hadn’t slept much, mostly studying the new evidence. There was a small lead he wanted to send Izzy and Clary on this morning. 

The air didn’t smell of coffee when he walked out into the kitchen. Another thing that wasn’t right. Bane was standing in the kitchen, bent over the stove. He had his back turned to Alec so the man couldn’t see what he looked like in the morning. 

Not that he wanted to know. He didn’t care what the other man looked like in the morning. Why would he care? He shook his head and looked around the kitchen. He cleared his throat, not wanting to surprise the man by a sudden appearance. 

Magnus had heard him, and felt him enter the room. It wasn’t difficult for him to know when people were close to him, and where we were. He could feel the unease coming from the agent. 

“I don’t know what you eat in the morning,” Magnus said. “I have some French toast cooking right now.” He turned to look at the man with a little smile. He didn’t like this, but he could try and make it as nice as possible. 

“Do you have coffee?” Alec asked, looking away from the psychic. He didn’t want to know what Magnus looked like in the morning. Just because he found a man handsome didn’t mean he had to become obsessed with every look on his face. He should be focusing right now. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not really a coffee drinker.” 

Alec pursed his lips. He didn’t know if he would perform well today if he didn’t have some coffee. “Right. So what do I do?” he asked, a bit more snappy than he’d thought he would be. 

“Well, you can sit down and wait for the French toast to be done, or you can go get a coffee at the coffee shop at the corner.” 

Alec stared at the other man for a moment. He didn’t know what to say, really. He didn’t really want to be rude, but he didn’t want to eat French toast then get the coffee. He reached for his coat, that was still on the couch from the night before. 

“I’ll just go. I’ll be back tonight. Probably around eight.” He put on the coat and grabbed his keys, sending Magnus a rather awkward nod. He didn’t wait for Magnus’ reply. 

“Right. See you tonight, I guess,” Magnus muttered, well aware that the man couldn’t hear him anymore. This was going to be quite troublesome. 

\----

Almost immediately after Alec’s first briefing of the day, Clary and Izzy were back out of the precinct. It was still early, and they had no idea whether or not the club they were going to visit was even open. It was probably being cleaned and re-stocked. But even if it was closed, it was getting them out of the break room. 

Clary slid into the passenger seat of the car. She knew how to drive, but she preferred not to. Especially in big cities like New York. The one time she’d loved driving had been during a road trip she’d taken with Maia, to celebrate their first anniversary. 

“So, we need to know if the bartender remember someone being particularly douchey with at least one of the two latest victims. Let’s just hope she was killed two nights ago, and not a week.” Izzy mused, turning to get onto the bridge. 

The drive wasn’t long, and the radio kept them company, as well as their own gossiping. Izzy asked about Maia, and Clary about whoever Izzy’s latest conquest was. They parked close to the club, still laughing from said conquest’s antics. 

“If I hear, one more ‘damn baby you’re so fine’, I might actually murder him,” Izzy joked as she got out of the car. The guy she was currently seeing was… he was sweet. She didn’t really know what else to say about him. She could do better, and she would definitely get on with doing just that. She was searching for wits as well as looks in a potential partner. 

“Right, and you’d know how to get away with it,” Clary laughed. 

They walked towards the entrance of "The Golden Pheasant" club. They looked rather inoffensive like this. Both of them were not very tall, both of them looked rather sweet. Clary especially -- Izzy definitely had a more seductive danger to her. They were both wearing leather jackets and blouses today, with comfortable heeled boots. It was almost a uniform by now. 

They pushed the door open. It did move, despite the sign that indicated it was closed. It did seem that people were around.

People were running around with armfuls of bottles, re-stocking the bar, while others were simply cleaning up the floor and lounge areas. It was busy, but in a different way than how Izzy usually experienced clubs, hopefully someone that would let them have a look at their security tapes if they couldn’t answer their questions. 

 

“I’m sorry ladies, we’re closed for now.” A tall burly man spoke from one of the corners. 

“Not for us, dear.” Izzy smiled at him, reaching for her wallet. Both Clary and her showed him their credentials. 

“What does the FBI want with this place? We don’t have any problems.” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. 

“No need to be defensive,” Clary said. “We’re investigating a murder, and the stamp of your club happens to be on the victim’s hand.” 

The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “What color was the stamp?” The two women exchanged a confused look. Noticing that, the man explained. “We change every day. Rotate them. So if she was here last night, or four nights ago, she would have a blue stamp.” 

Izzy pulled up her phone and went through the pictures of the crime scene she had, stopping on the stamp. It was red. 

“Red means she was here three nights ago,” the man said. “Or eight. Or even more.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome to ask my staff if anyone saw her.” 

They thanked the man and started going around the room. Most of those working while they were here were actually not night workers, and didn’t help them much with knowing who the woman had left with. Asking them was pointless. ‘A waste of everyone’s time’ as Alec would say. 

They managed to get the manager to show them the security tapes -- high dose of feminine charm and a healthy amount of FBI-issue search warrant worked wonders. They were quickly sat in front of the monitor, the security tape playing, one bored guard looking over their shoulder. 

Izzy quickly navigated through it so they could copy the files onto the USB key on Clary’s keychain. They took the footage for the two weeks before the murder, since they had no idea yet when she had been taken. 

The download was fast and they thanked the man before walking out. They both had no idea what to do now. The murderer could have killed or kidnapped the woman weeks ago. Maybe it was all part of a planned body-dumping. The killer had their dead bodies stored somewhere cold and just dumped them on the right dates. 

There were so many variables that they couldn’t foresee, and it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It was as if the murderer knew how not to get caught. There was no trail. 

The women slid back into the car and started the drive back to the precinct. At least they had something to show Alec. He would probably get the videos and watch them for hours trying to find something, anything. The leader of the group still had to complain about Bane’s habits, but they knew he would take any pretext not to talk to him. 

The drive back was slightly longer than expected, which let them discuss things that weren’t related to the case, again. They both enjoyed having those little moments where they could relax a little. Izzy took some time to gush about the psychic she had been going to, one of Bane’s friends. Clary showed interest in him, at least enough so Izzy wouldn’t feel like talking to a wall. 

Ragnor Fell was good at what he did, and Izzy enjoyed the deep relaxation that came from each of her visits to his practice. Alec saw it as strange but had enough decency not to make any comments. Now that she thought about it, Izzy had probably seen pictures of Bane around the psychic’s office. Interesting. 

\-----

Catarina, Ragnor and Dot were sitting around Ragnor’s coffee table, looking at the empty space where their friend should have been. A week had passed since the agents had first arrested Magnus, throwing their carefully arranged lives into disorder, and it seemed like it was never going to end. 

“It’s not fair. They shouldn’t keep him like this,” Dot exclaimed, putting down her tea cup a bit abruptly. Catarina put her hand on her wife’s shoulder, thumb gently stroking. 

“I know you’re angry, Dorothea, but it’s not an excuse to brutalize the china,” Ragnor winced. “Besides, we can’t do anything about this. We told them what they wanted to know. It’s out of our hands.” 

The three psychics sighed, looking at each other. Tea parties like this one were something the group enjoyed. They gathered in one of their homes and had some tea, some food, and sometimes even spent the night. Well, except Magnus. They knew his abilities kept him from enjoying a night spent at someone else’s home. 

Ragnor lived in a cozy house in one of the fancier neighborhoods of Brooklyn. The brick house was small, but pleasant and comfortable. A metal sign nailed onto the brick facade next to the wall advertised his practice with a rather mysterious ‘Ragnor Fell, Reader’. 

He had inherited the house from an estranged relative who had forgotten to change their will, after growing contemptuous over Ragnor’s choice of work. Ragnor was a psychic, and a part of his family had stopped talking to him because of that. They had always had a rather racist view of all those who practised Ragnor’s arts. 

Ragnor had given up trying to share their mind after one too many slurs. Besides, it had been around the time of his coming out. Having an aromantic, asexual psychic in their family hadn’t been well received by the Fells at all. 

He put his own cup down, sighing softly. 

Catarina looked at them. “I don’t know about you, but I’m more in the mood for alcohol than for tea. No offense, Ragnor, it’s delicious, but… I worry too much about Magnus.” 

“We shouldn’t worry,” Ragnor reassured her, though he too was concerned. “He’s perfectly safe. He does have a FBI agent every night at his apartment, and some permanent video surveillance. Nothing is going to happen to our dear empath.” 

Magnus was doing better every day. He was far from the person he had been when they had met him, years ago when he had still worked at the bookstore. But he was also far from the person they had found, a couple weeks after he’d come out of this hospital. Magnus was healthier, safer, more in control. Yet they were all afraid that this would be too much. 

“Besides, we trust his capacities,” Catarina added, and they all nodded. 

A heavy silence settled after that, during which they stared at the empty tea cups and the candle burning at the center of the coffee table. Dot swallowed, loud enough for everyone to hear it and Ragnor decided that was enough. 

He suddenly stood up, and shrugged at the raised eyebrows of the two women. “I’m getting alcohol.” 

They both chuckled and helped him get the tea pot and tea cups off the coffee table and into the kitchen. Dot turned on the water in the sink and proceeded to quickly give everything a wash. Catarina was putting some salty snacks into bowls to go with the wine that Ragnor was getting. 

The man patted Dot’s shoulder and muttered a teasing “Please don’t hurt the china.” 

She rolled her eyes at that. “Just focus on pouring us wine, Fell. Don’t worry about your precious cups.” 

They soon were back around the coffee table, this time holding glasses of red wine and picking at the food that was displayed for them. They were family by now, and Ragnor trusted them in his home, the way Magnus trusted them as well. 

“So, we need a plan of attack to get our Magnus back. We’re not losing him at the hands of federal law enforcement,” Catarina started. She had a look of conspiration and a hushed voice. Once the chuckles had died down, she spoke again. “It’s true, though. We need him. And he needs us.” 

Ragnor rolled his eyes. “You realize that there is nothing that really keeps us from going to see him.” 

“Nothing but being in the same room as Agent Jerkface.” Catarina shrugged. They all remembered the way the man had said the word ‘psychic’ as if it was the most appalling thing he’d ever had to say. He had been cold, with very little patience, even when it came to them answering a question he’d asked, if it was in a manner that was too lengthy for him. 

“His name is Lightwood, honey, and Magnus finds him pretty, so the least we can do is try to be civil,” Dorothea chastised. 

Her wife leaned back against the velvet-covered couch, running her hand over the fabric. “Do we even know if he’s into men?” 

Ragnor huffed. “With those cheekbones? Definitely.” 

“Right, so cheekbones are a sign of sexuality now, Ragnor? That’s why you don’t have any; you’re ace,” Catarina replied sarcastically. 

Dot watched them with a smile. The banter between the four of them was an almost permanent aspect of their relationship. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing, there was always a healthy amount of teasing. 

“The question is,” she interjected, “are we going to play matchmakers, or are we going to let them do that themselves?” 

They all fell silent for a short moment, contemplating both options. Magnus usually didn’t mind some setting-up from his friends, but they didn’t know if this particular set up would be appreciated. After all, they were talking about getting their best friend and the man who had arrested and interrogated him together. 

“Well, Magnus is definitely single. And he does occasionally mingle so…” Catarina trailed off. 

“Yeah, but we saw what kind of guy Lightwood is,” Ragnor pointed out. “Unless he’s wildly different when he’s home, there’s no real chance he’s going to be into Magnus.” 

Dot nodded. “We need to get him to tell us what the man is like. It’s been a week of cohabitation; they must have exchanged some kind of personal information.” 

“I could ask my client. Izzy Lightwood. She’s so stressed, the poor thing; it’s like her boss is driving into the ground,” Ragnor commented. “She’s at least from his family. She looks a lot like him. The cheekbones.” He smirked. “And she’s bisexual. My cheekbone theory is real, Catarina, no need to fight it.” 

The woman huffed and took a sip of her wine, deciding not to reply. Cheekbone theory, her ass. She knew Ragnor was only teasing, but she was playing the grump. Her wife was the one who spoke out next. 

“Well, whether the cheekbone theory is right or wrong, I think we should let it happen. No need for us to work our matchmaking magic. After all, Magnus is the sweetest guy around, and he’s very handsome.” 

They could all agree on that. Dot was right, there was no need for them to try and intervene. It was a delicate situation, and they didn’t want to push either of them and make cohabitating even worse. 

They fell into a more light-hearted conversation, one that didn’t involve setting-up their best friend who was currently trapped in his own home with FBI agent number two. They did briefly wonder how Magnus could function normally around him though. 

At Magnus’ apartment, the evening had started normally enough. Magnus had made an early dinner for himself. He didn’t like the other agent who was staying at his place. The man was obnoxiously loud. It was as if he didn’t have a single care about Magnus, or Chairman. 

The poor cat had been stepped on several times already and Magnus knew that the second he fell asleep that night, there was going to be revenge from the feline. To say that he was looking forward to Jace Herondale’s face when he saw his possibly ruined stuff in the morning was an understatement. Lightwood and him had switched that day. 

At least, Lightwood was quiet. He just went through the motions, silent, alone, and avoiding any kind of contact with Magnus or Magnus’ things. The psychic sighed softly. He heard two voices coming from the corridor and sighed again, this time heavily. 

He was back. 

Herondale had gone for dinner with his girlfriend, which left Magnus and Chairman alone in the silent apartment, and it had been perfect until now. Especially since he could now hear the giggles of a female voice alongside the agent’s. 

He was not only back, he was back with his girlfriend. 

The doorbell rang and Magnus went to open it. There were two people that he wished he could turn away. The agent, tall, blonde, an infuriating smirk on, acting as if he had done nothing wrong in the world, had his arm around the waist of a woman in her mid-twenties, tall, attractive and equally smug. 

She had brown curls and a dress short enough to make Magnus want to go and wash out his eyes. He just wanted this entire thing to be over. The investigation and the permanence of the agents at night were not helping his anxiety. 

The two partners walked into the apartment and Herondale took off his coat, putting it on a pile on the kitchen counter. Magnus wanted to punch him. Chairman looked ready to pounce on him. 

“We’ll be discreet,” the agent shouted over his shoulder, before the door slammed shut and Magnus rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t have told him to make himself at home. Not if this was the outcome. 

He prayed they wouldn’t have sex. He should have specified that in the house rules. No going in his bedroom, in his bathroom, and no sexual intercourse. Whether they did it or not, he was going to have to change the sheets eventually, and the very idea of it made him deeply uncomfortable.

Magnus went back to the couch he’d been sitting on before Herondale’s arrival, getting back to his usual cross-legged position and looking at the screen of his computer. He needed to set up a message on his website, to warn his customers that he wasn’t going to take any clients for a while. 

Lightwood would probably snap at him for that, since his clients had been the main reason for the cameras that were now in his living room. Magnus didn’t have the will to care. He wanted to stay home, and be alone as much as possible to try to recover from the arrest and its lasting effects. 

He glared at the screen, as if it was the one offending him. The noises that were coming from the room where definitely not discreet. He didn’t have ear plugs for the night and he was starting to regret that. Chairman head butted his leg, obviously trying to comfort him. Magnus looked down with a small smile. It was working. It always worked. The adorable antics of his favorite companion always cheered him up. Magnus scratched behind the cat’s ear in gratitude, muttering soft words of affection. 

He resumed his task, and started emailing his clients, offering apologies as well as a quick reschedule of their appointment. He had to keep his clientele happy, or they would go somewhere else, and this was Magnus’ only income. 

Some days, he wondered if he was strong enough to have another job again. He could try to get his old position at the bookstore back, but it had been years since he’d left, unable to stand remaining after the incident, and they probably didn’t remember him well. 

He’d loved the bookstore. It was quiet most days, and those who walked through the doors were usually genuinely interested in the books, rather than just wasting time or searching for a certain novel their school had insisted they read. 

Eventually, Chairman stated getting more and more insistent. He rubbed against Magnus’ leg with loud meows, trying to get him to move. Magnus checked the time and chuckled. “My poor darling, I am starving you.” He scratched the cat’s neck and stood up. 

The animal jumped off the couch and twined around Magnus’ leg, still meowing loudly. Magnus might have been used to this little circus, but he still had a hard time with the simple task of walking, as Chairman kept going back and forth between his feet, brushing and rubbing against his ankles. 

Magnus reached for the cat food and the bowl, with an excited animal still rushing around like it was the best day of his entire life. “Little drama queen.” Magnus chuckled as Chairman jumped onto the counter, and tried to steal the food as it dropped from the can to the bowl. 

He shooed the animal off the counter, sighing as grey fur was left behind. Chairman was currently shedding, and it was getting everywhere. He needed to clean everything twice a day. He loved his cat, but sometimes he wondered if there wasn’t a way for him to stop shedding. 

With some more of Chairman’s attempts at stealing food, he managed to get the bowl down to the floor at the spot where the cat usually ate, with all the food still in it. Sometimes, a sudden head bump against the container caused everything to fall out, and Magnus was left with food everywhere and Chairman eating it. 

Magnus smiled as his companion dove onto the food like the poor starving animal that he was. Magnus was mistreating him, it seemed, with all his feeding him five minutes late. He looked around the kitchen, still smiling, until his eyes fell on something that was out of place. 

The coat of the agent was still there, on a pile on his counter, and Magnus was going to have to touch it because he didn’t want the bacteria and dirt from the outside world to tarnish his wonderful home. 

He reached for it and pulled it up, shaking it slightly to get it back in shape. Something came clinking down on the floor from the shaking, and Magnus raised an eyebrow. He quickly draped the coat over a nearby chair, and crouched to examine the object. 

It was a necklace, he realized. The silver chain was quite long, and the pendant was shaped like a q, with a single stone dangling from the circle of metal. It was beautiful, really, and looked quite expensive. 

Perhaps it was a gift for the man’s girlfriend. It looked used, though, from what Magnus could see. But then, perhaps that just showed how little Jace valued his lover.

Jace Herondale was halfway through undressing his girlfriend when suddenly he heard a noise. Something was tumbling down in the living room, something big enough to make a crashing noise. He pulled up his pants and grabbed his weapon, knowing he had to do his job. 

Lying on the floor of the apartment, next to two chairs that had fallen with him, was the psychic. Bane looked up at nothing, eyes wide open and pure terror in his gaze. In his hand was the necklace Jace had brought back from the crime scene.


	5. V: Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Good health, Opportunities, Spirituality, Astronomy, Inspiration, Hope  
> Reversed: Despair, Missed opportunities, Disappointments, Illness
> 
> The Star is most welcome when grief and despair have overwhelmed us. In our darkest moments, we need to know that there is hope,that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It holds out the promise that we can eventually find peace of mind. The Star also reminds us to open our heart and release our fears and doubt. If you have been holding back in any way, now is the time to give generously.

The second Magnus’ fingers came into contact with the cool metal of the necklace, he was struck by a bolt of feelings. They were not the good kind. His muscles seized, clenching his fist around the necklace, forcing him to feel everything that was still imprinted in the object. It was terrible. 

The anguish was palpable, pulling Magnus down to the floor. It was over-powering, violent, and before Magnus could adjust to it, another feeling came rushing in. 

Fear took over, so intense it was nauseating. The anguish was still just as powerful, in no way diminished, but it was fear that wrapped around Magnus like a vice, clawing at his mind and his skin. 

He was suffocating. He didn’t feel himself fall to the floor, only realized the sudden shift in perspective. He couldn’t breathe. The fear tightened again and pain started shouting, screaming really, in his ear, a cacophony of horror, pain and the knowledge it was the end. Doom. 

It grew, more and more, harder and tighter and louder – and then suddenly everything stopped. 

His eyes had been open the entire time, yet he had seen nothing until the feelings stopped, leaving him panting, but free. It was a bittersweet feeling, to no longer be trapped by those overwhelming feelings and yet to know there was only one reason that they could have ended like that. They were dead. Whoever had imprinted on the necklace, they were dead and gone, and a pit opened in Magnus’ stomach at the thought. 

He only then heard the agent calling his name, only then saw the stools that had fallen with him, only then felt his cat press against his side. He didn’t know if his legs would be able to support him so he stayed down. 

The blond man looked down at him, staring for a moment wordlessly. He finally moved, snatching the necklace out of Magnus’ hand. Magnus didn’t mind. He didn’t know if the feelings would come back, and he was in no hurry to find out. 

“What was that?” he asked, his voice small and afraid. 

“Where did you find it?” Herondale replied without answering his question. 

Magnus didn’t care about the lack of answer. His mind was still reeling from the emotions, the emotional energy of his kitchen had shifted entirely to terror. He couldn’t really think, so he just answered the question. 

“You left your coat on the counter, and it fell out of it when I straightened it.”

Herondale cursed out loud and walked back into the bedroom. Magnus barely registered the voices talking there, barely registered the woman walking back out with a disdain-filled pout. Suddenly, the man was next to him again, talking loudly on the phone as he slid the necklace into an evidence bag.

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, arms wrapping around himself instinctively. Fear clawed at his mind again. He could feel it as if personified, as if Fear itself was wrapping its hand around him and tugging at his soul, ripping at the still fresh sutures. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. 

A hand landed on his shoulder and Magnus almost screamed. He couldn’t deal with this. He needed a break. Chairman seemed so far away, everything seemed so far away. He opened his eyes again. His legs were shaking. His entire body was shaking. He should turn on the heat. 

He blinked, but his vision was blurry. The hand went away. The man that was around him walked away from him. Good. Chairman was closer. He was still so far though. Magnus wanted to get up but he couldn’t. 

How long had he been on the floor? His legs were shaking, but he couldn’t move them. It was sympathetic. He couldn’t control anything. The migraine was back. Hard. Piercing into his head suddenly, tearing a choked sob out of his throat. 

It was like the first time. It was better than that day, but it was still horrible, and Magnus wanted out of his own head. He wished it would stop. Most days, his gift was a curse. One day, it would probably kill him. 

The man was still talking on the phone. The words weren’t discernable; it seemed still far away. Behind the feelings and behind the pain. Magnus needed a break. He stayed on the floor, not moving or speaking, just trying the best he could to calm himself down. 

He didn’t want to go back to the mental ward. Not again. He knew what would happen, he knew he would never get out of that place alive. He’d barely escaped it, and her, when he’d been there the first time. How could he go back? 

Somewhere in between the fear and the pain from the necklace that were still swirling in his mind crept the images he’d wanted to forget. His own screams started playing over and over. 

The feelings that had tugged at him back in the ward, that had grabbed at him and skinned him alive, leaving him a raw husk of the person he’d once been. His own room at the hospital had been saturated by feelings, each more desperate than the one before, all clawing at him day and night. He hadn’t rested, he hadn’t been able to sleep unless his sleep was drug-induced, or unless she had been around. 

The moment his tears had dried out, he had known that he was lost, and that there was no way he would ever be the same. 

He didn’t want the agents to call the hospital and have him taken away again. He hoped they wouldn’t. He couldn’t stop them if they did. They had reasons. Magnus’ gift wasn’t something others could grasp. If Lightwood called them, he was never going to come home. 

Suddenly, he felt another presence around him. A perfume too. It wasn’t one he knew. There was a lot of worry. Not fear, but concern. A hint of contempt twisted through as well. Other agents were here, Magnus realized. Alec Lightwood was here. He couldn’t show weakness. 

He blinked and the world was clear again. There was a woman crouching next to him, dark-haired and hazel-eyed just like Agent Lightwood. Maybe she was the sister. The one Ragnor had talked about. She pulled him up, and he didn’t push her away. She helped him get to the couch and asked if he wanted anything. He wanted tea. She went to get it. 

Chairman was still stuck against him, and Magnus finally petted him, finally able to control his own motions. He wanted to be alone, but his apartment had three other people in it that he didn’t want to see, or feel. The blond was sheepish, the other man was exhausted, and the woman was… worried. 

Magnus almost jumped when the couch dipped, Alec Lightwood settling at a respectful distance. He looked up at the agent with a sigh. He didn’t have time to ask what the man wanted before he started asking him questions. 

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

“No,” Magnus blurted out the second the man had finished his sentence, or maybe even before, he wasn’t exactly sure. 

The man looked taken aback but didn’t question the decision. It was nice, not to be asked if he was sure. He was. He was absolutely certain he didn’t want hospitals involved in any way. The smell of them would only make it all worse. 

The woman came back with the tea, and Magnus immediately checked if everything was done correctly. He didn’t trust people around his kitchen. He had only let her go in there because he knew the residues of his episode were still lingering in the room, and he didn’t want a second round. 

“So,” the dark-haired agent said after a while. “What just happened?” 

Magnus sighed. Here it went again. 

\----

Luke Garroway slipped out of his car and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. He was used to the detours he had to take. He had been doing this little… circus for a while now. For five years, if he was being exact, since he’d broken up with her. When Jocelyn and he had been together, she had lived at his apartment. His presence in his own home hadn’t been suspicious. Now, everything had to be covert, in case the man Jocelyn was running from was watching. 

He texted her once he was at her door, not ringing the bell of the house. The house was relatively old but had been divided into apartments. Jocelyn lived on the first floor. Luke knew that the tenants living on the ground floor would be woken up if he rang in the middle of the night. 

The door opened, and Jocelyn ushered him inside. He stepped into the corridor, looking around. This was Jocelyn’s latest address. She’d been there for about four months, which meant she’d probably be moving again soon. He’d only been there once before, two months ago. He had an habit of visiting her when she needed support the most. April 4th and June 7th. 

“How are you?” he asked once they were both upstairs in her apartment. 

The place was small, suitable for one. He knew that Jocelyn didn’t have many visitors. The woman let him sit down on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen. She had yet to reply to his question. 

Looking around the room he was in, he noticed a few things Jocelyn always took with her, whenever she changed apartments. Things from the house she had shared with her ex-husband, or things she’d collected along the way. 

A blanket, the one she had used to smuggle her newborn out of their house in the middle of the night, was thrown over the couch, as it always was. An old candle, half-burnt, that she’d bought ten years ago, was sitting on the dining table. 

Her suitcase was against the wall next to the window. Even when they’d been together, the suitcase had always been around, ready for the next change of home, ready to leave at a moment’s notice should it be necessary. 

And around the room, there were framed pictures. Always the same frames that Jocelyn had bought some time ago. They were mismatched. She only replaced one at a time, when one broke, so they all were framed differently. 

In the center of the dining table, framed by a sturdy metallic frame, was a picture of her daughter. 

Clary had turned eighteen and gone to college, and she’d never come back. They’d celebrated her birthday when they all lived back in Greenpoint. Luke and Jocelyn had been living together, a couple months before their break-up. The picture showed the red-haired teenager, holding a knife the size of her forearm and preparing to slice an enormous cake. It had been a white chocolate ice cream cake from the shop down the road. Luke remembered getting it for her. 

There were no pictures of Clary from after her birthday party. 

“How is she?” Jocelyn had come back while he was looking at the picture, emerging from the shadows of the barely-lit room with two cups of coffee. 

“She’s doing great. Working hard. She’s planning on making her relationship with her girlfriend more permanent, soon.” Luke accepted the cup of coffee with a nod, and put it down on the coffee table, waiting for it to cool off. 

Jocelyn’s hair was still that deep auburn color, but he could see gray roots growing. He didn’t comment on it. 

“Don’t let her get married now. She’s too young,” Jocelyn finally replied, shaking her head, eyes on the picture of her and her infant daughter that was balanced on top of a pile of home-decor magazines. 

“Maia isn’t Val-” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, putting down her cup and shaking her head. “I know that girl isn’t him. But I don't want Clary to make my mistakes. She’s too young. She has much more to see. Other people to meet. She shouldn’t get married to the first one she dates.” 

Luke knew he couldn’t convince Jocelyn of anything. Jocelyn had been a good mother, but she didn’t agree with Clary on many things. One of those things being accepting her daughter’s sexuality. It had been a reason for their falling-out. 

“You know I’m not here to talk about Clary,” he reminded her. 

The woman sighed, and took a sip of her coffee. “I know.”

“You didn’t tell me how you were doing.” He was pushing, though he didn’t want to do so too much. He knew Jocelyn could be stubborn. Clary had definitely gotten that from her. 

“It’s been 20 years. How do you think I’m doing?” she asked sharply, and Luke sighed. He couldn’t believe how much had changed since then. That day had changed everything in both their lives. They had still been friends then. Good friends, not like who they were now. 

“You know what I’m going to say. He could still come back to you.” 

Words of reassurance did nothing to calm Jocelyn. They never had, but Luke still had to try. All hope wasn’t lost. Most of it, maybe. There was little doubt that Jonathan did not remember his mother, not when he’d been taken from her so young. 

“Even if he does, he won’t be my son. You know Valentine. You know that when he swore revenge, he meant it.” 

“I know that your child is probably long gone, but he might still come back. Maybe he’ll wonder what you are like. Or why he couldn’t see you. Valentine may have messed with his head, but we have no idea what he said to him.”

“Maybe he’s like Clarissa, and he’ll come for answers,” Jocelyn admitted, but it was easy to hear that she was only trying to convince herself. 

They drank their coffee in silence after that. It was always awkward between them now, since they’d broken up. It had been a mutual decision, but they hadn’t stayed friends. Not when Clary had declared she would live with Luke until she could find an apartment, instead of living with her mother. 

“If they get married, you should come to the ceremony,” Luke said, finally breaking the silence. 

Jocelyn huffed. “She won’t invite me.” 

“She can be convinced. She doesn't hate you. She just… doesn’t want her happiness questioned, which is understandable.” 

Jocelyn shrugged and brought the mug back to her lips. She took some time before answering. “If I receive the invitation, I’ll consider it. But I don’t approve. She’s too young. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. I was married at 21, and even if that girl isn’t Valentine, it’s still too early, and I don’t think I’m ever going to change my mind about that.” 

“I know.” Luke didn’t know what else to reply to that. 

“The only good thing coming out of her getting married so soon is changing her name. And her father would never think she’d be -- you know. Marrying a woman.” 

“Does he know the name you gave her?” Luke asked. 

Jocelyn shook her head. “He doesn’t know anything. She’s still Adele Morgenstern in his eyes. And it should stay that way. He’s never going to go looking for a Clary --” She trailed off, looking up at him. 

“Roberts,” Luke supplied. “The name of her girlfriend is Maia Roberts.”

“Clary Roberts,” Jocelyn repeated. “That’s not the name of our daughter. He’ll never find her.” 

Luke nodded, though he didn’t really agree with everything she was saying. He was used to walking out of Jocelyn’s new home with the taste of paranoia and bitterness in his mouth. But he owed it to her, to come see her every year. When the anniversary of Jonathan Morgenstern’s disappearance struck. 

\---

“I want a puppy.” 

It was common knowledge that Maia Roberts had an affinity with dogs. She didn’t really know why, but she did. They were just pure balls of fluff and sunshine and happiness, and she had always wanted her own. Work, money and several other problems had been making adopting an animal difficult.

Her long wish to have a dog was vocalised for at least the hundredth time that evening as she was laying sideways on the couch of their apartment. It was late, but both Clary and her were used to that weird schedule that came with her work. 

She had blurted out those four words but it seemed like her girlfriend hadn’t heard anything, or she was avoiding the conversation. Both were equally grave offenses. No one should avoid the topic of puppies. 

Maia sighed. Clary had been living here for several months now. Every day was more amazing than the other, even if she found a incredible amount of red hair all over the place. 

When they did get a dog, Maia was positive Clary would be shedding more than the animal. She wouldn’t mind. Having both the love of her life and the cutest thing God had ever invented in her home would make everything worth it. 

The apartment was currently filled with the delicious smell of Clary’s homemade bolognese sauce. Maia would willingly die and go to Heaven, if only she could eat this sauce for the rest of her life. Maia had come home an hour or so ago, to the wonderful sight of her girlfriend in underwear, socks and a tshirt, waiting for her with two glasses of wine and the promise of her favorite meal. It hadn’t even been a special occasion. 

“You were saying?” 

A smiling red-haired woman appeared in Maia’s line of sight. She was leaning over the couch, with a spoon full of the sauce. She needed to make a quick choice. Sauce, or talking about a puppy. The sauce was threatening to drip onto the couch, and Maia didn’t want a stain on the pillows, so she chose the sauce. She would discuss the puppy later. 

A delightful mix of tomato, meat and herbs filled her mouth and she hummed appreciatively, savoring it. It was perfection. Maia loved it, more than almost anything. Less than Clary though. 

“I love you,” she confessed, earning a chuckle and a peck on the lips. That was a very excellent reward. 

Clary went back to the kitchen for a moment, discarding the spoon and putting the lid on the saucepan to let it simmer, while Maia hit play on the paused tv show they had been watching recently. 

They had been marathoning the Good Place recently. It was very entertaining, though it definitely lacked gayness. They watched an episode or two every night, relishing in the antics of the characters. 

All the characters were so interesting, neither of them could find their favorite of the bunch. Clary was very into Tahani though. But well, she was so gorgeous, that who could help but be into her?

Clary came back to the couch, sitting down next to Maia. She rearranged her so Maia was still lying sideways, but her head rested on Clary’s lap. Maia was very pleased with this development, especially since it meant a head massage. The wine was forgotten for now on the coffee table. 

“You said something earlier,” Clary reminded her and Maia smiled. 

“Yeah. I said I wanted a puppy.” 

Clary laughed, and Maia melted at the sound. She just couldn’t get enough of it, it was like her own personal favorite thing in the entire world. She was well aware of how lucky she was to hear such a beautiful thing. 

“I’m serious,” Maia continued. “I’d love to have a dog. I’d walk them in the morning when you have work early, and you’d walk them in the evening when I have to be at work. It would be perfect.” 

It would. She could already see the pile of cuddles in the morning, wet dog tongue waking them up, and how Clary and she would both grumble but be happy to wake up to take care of their dog. Their dog. The new member of the Fray-Roberts household. 

“Hmm. It would be a good idea. Dogs are great,” Clary replied, gently threading her hand in Maia’s tight curls. She did agree with her girlfriend on all points. 

“I know it would be a bit of a problem. For vacations, or when you’re really busy with a case like right now, and it’s not giving you one moment for yourself…” Maia whispered. “But it would be our baby.” 

Clary grinned at that. She liked that idea. She looked down at her girlfriend, and as always when she looked into her wonderful, beautiful eyes, she felt so in love with her. She wanted that life.

The dog was a commitment. So was the ring she was planning to buy. It was scary, but it was also exhilarating. Clary wanted to spend the rest of her life with Maia, and she wasn’t planning on wasting more time with it. 

“One day, we’re going to get married.” 

She hadn’t really realized she had said that out loud until there were wide brown eyes looking up at her and Maia was moving to sit up, and look at her more directly. There was an odd expression on her face, something Clary couldn’t quite read. Shock, maybe, or confusion? Clary swallowed. She might have just fucked up everything. 

“Clary, baby…” 

Yeah, it was definitely over. She was going to run away screaming. Maia’s soft words and the way she was moving from their previous comfortable position, clearly gearing up for a serious talk, was sending Clary into panic mode. Clary didn’t close her eyes, but she was definitely bracing for impact. She could move out of Maia’s apartment soon if needed. She’d crash at Izzy’s. 

“I’d love to.” 

That was really not expected. 

Clary blinked. Maia was looking at her with the most absolute tenderness she had ever seen in the world and the redhead’s heart skipped a beat. Clary had never seen someone look at her like this, and it made butterflies dance in her belly. 

“You mean it?” she asked and Maia nodded with a small, loving smile. 

“Of course I do. There’s nothing I’d love more than be married to you, Clary,” she promised. 

Clary thought that this moment would forever be the best day in her life. Because right now, she knew that she could buy the ring. She could propose. Maia wanted it as much as she did. She was going to be her wife. 

“I’d love it too. I’ve been thinking about it. How I want to be your wife. I know it’s only been three years together, but you and I… Maia, I want you in my life forever.” 

They discussed it further that evening. They needed to know how the other saw it. Clary wanted to know if she could propose soon. Maybe Maia wanted to wait a couple months, or years, and Clary just wanted her to say yes when she would propose, so knowing those things felt important. 

It was a perfect evening. The knowledge that they would be together for as long as possible, that they would maybe get a do, and the amazing pasta, formed the best of frames for their happiness. 

They both knew the following day would be a hard day at work but they just wanted to bask in their absolute happiness, and Clary didn’t care if her glowing caused some remarks from Jace the next morning. She didn’t care at all. 

\------

Clary was still beaming as she waited for Alec to start the briefing the next morning. There was a strange energy in the room, and despite her good mood, she knew something was wrong. 

Alec was still silent, which was a bit out of the ordinary. At this hour, the team leader was usually running around with a cup of coffee in hand, snapping orders at everyone that moved. Now he was just standing, there, leaning against a cupboard with a distant look in his eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” Clary asked, noticing that Izzy and Jace were both also acting strange. 

Izzy looked tired, and Jace had a strange almost sheepish expression on his face that didn’t fit his usual arrogant demeanor. Something was wrong. 

“We had a… tumultuous night,” Alec explained. “And we need to decide something today. It could impact the rest of our investigation, though it is quite unlikely.” 

Alec was tired of all of this. He’d spent the part of the night that wasn’t spent at Bane’s apartment trying to find a way to resolve all of this. Starting with Jace. Jace needed to be fired, or at least not be on Alec’s team anymore. First, there had been the comments, then the attitude, and now the man was taking evidence back home and leaving it lying around. It had been a mistake, and Alec wasn’t ready to forgive that.

But this investigation needed more than three agents, and going through the paperwork to request a new operative would take time that the team and the victims didn’t have. To add a further complication, Imogen Herondale wouldn’t be very happy if her grandson was fired off the quite prestigious “serial-killer squad”. 

Firing Jace would have to wait the end of this investigation. But then there would be nothing stopping him, he would be off and gone and they could get someone that would actually be a good team member instead. 

“Tell her what you did,” Alec ordered the blond agent standing across from him. 

Jace gulped. He seemed aware that he was on a thin ice, that Alec would not hesitate to fire him if he had to. 

“I brought the necklace of the victim back to Bane’s. Out of the evidence bag. He found it, and used his… weird vision thing on it,” the man said in a small voice. 

Alec nodded, sighing. “Which means we have contaminated evidence, and a guy that could be pretending to have had a panic attack, but who is claiming that he felt what the last victim felt when she died.” 

Clary hummed and nodded, trying to find an answer. Alec still didn’t believe the psychic. Izzy probably did. Jace was probably trying not to voice any opinion, in fear that it might be the last straw for his boss. An understandable position. 

“What he said made sense,” Izzy explained. “He spoke of the sudden strangulation, and he told us about how the victim had not been killed immediately after her capture, which is consistent with the medical examiner’s report.” 

“Maybe, but those are all details we probably gave him when we were interrogating him. And he knows we’re searching a serial killer, so he knows the MO would have been the same. He’s smart.” 

Both Izzy and Alec were right. But they didn’t have any other leads. They didn’t have a way of knowing if the man was lying or not, and they had no options right now. 

“What decision do we need to make?” Clary asked at that moment, running her hand through her hair. 

“Do we use Bane’s so-called gift as a tool for our investigation, knowing he’s probably playing with us, or not?” 

“Worst case scenario, Bane will lie to us. He does seem like a pretty decent man,” Clary pointed out, "But worst case scenario, he lies to us. Just because we let him tell us what he sees -- or 'sees' -- doesn't mean we have to believe him."

Izzy nodded. “We should only use his services when we have no option, and only take in account his visions if we have a way to logically prove them,” she said, noting the light turn of her brother’s lips at the mention of verification. She knew he would like that. “Besides,” she continued, “he knows you still see him as a potential suspect, Alec. It’s all in his interest to not give us false information.”

The two women were right, and Alec knew it. He still didn’t want the psychic anywhere his case again. He didn’t trust him, even with everything he’d seen during the first week of his stay. Even if the terror and pain written all over the man’s features that night were still in his mind, whispering to him that it wasn’t an act. 

Alec had seen panic attacks before, had experienced several of his own, and Bane had demonstrated some of the signs of trauma-induced panic attacks. Alec just wasn’t ready to trust him with his investigation. He didn’t want the psychic’s magic... thing to be the reason he solved this case. It wasn’t fair. 

Alec had poured his heart and soul into this case for the past few months. He had lost sleep over this, had dreamt of it whenever he managed to rest. He didn’t want all those hours of hard work to be swept aside by some psychic. Bane didn’t deserve to solve the case. 

He sighed. “Let’s suppose we do let him be around the evidence,” Alec conceded. “There’s still a lot of issues -- he’s going to be leaving his fingerprints all over the place, for one, if touch is what makes his… gift work.” 

“I’m sure we can find a way to make things work,” Izzy said. “But we should check with him first. We don’t even know if he’ll be willing to help.” 

Jace was still silent, and Alec was glad for that. He didn’t want to hear anything from that man again for a while. He was tired of the excuses. The agent had brought his girlfriend in a surveillance operation, had broken so many rules that Alec’s head was spinning. Rules were not meant to be broken. Ever. 

Rules were meant to be followed, for the good of everyone. Unless they were endangering people or going against people’s rights. If they were good rules, people should be following them. Alec’s job was to enforce those rules. He’d always liked the title. Law enforcement. It made sense to him. 

Alec believed in democracy. Both his sister and Clary believed Bane enough to trust him with some of the case, so he was going to indulge them. He didn’t believe it though. It didn’t make sense. Alec believed in cold hard facts. The only thing he’d seen about Bane that made sense was the panic attack. He could believe that. The rest… he just wanted this to end. And if the girls though Bane could start to give them a hint of something to work with, then he’d try to manage his disbelief. He just hoped they weren’t wasting their time.

If he was being entirely honest with everyone, he was afraid of Bane and his chaos. His gift didn’t answer to any rules Alec knew, and it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t have the tools to understand it, and so he rejected it. He’d always been that way. 

He shook his head, trying to force his thoughts back on track. They needed to get back to work. He would speak to Bane later, see how he felt about Jace coming back to his apartment, or if he wanted another arrangement. 

“So, matter’s closed, everyone, back to --”

He was interrupted by an anxious looking man, walking into the room. Magnus Bane was holding his coat close around him, obviously uncomfortable in this environment, but there was a firmness in his dark brown eyes that Alec hadn’t seen from him before. It was intriguing. 

“You shouldn’t be here. You had an eventful night,” Izzy told the psychic but the man shook his head, gesturing at her to stay quiet. 

“I… I want to help you. If you will have me help, I can’t stay out of it, not anymore. I want to help you catch the murderer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who read this! Next chapter should be up on Sunday, April 1st. Except a chapter every Sunday!
> 
> And thanks again to my wonderful beta @loveislarryislove on tumblr!


	6. VI: The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit  
> Reversed: Naivety, foolishness, recklessness, risk-taking
> 
> The Fool Tarot card is a card of potential, new beginnings and innocence. This Tarot card shows the highest potential for your life, reaching a state of renewal and new beginnings, where each day is an adventure and each moment is lived to the fullest. The Fool card represents a desire to accomplish new goals (or to, at least, start the process of working towards those goals). The Fool indicates that anything can happen and the opportunities are just waiting to be taken advantage of.  
> the Fool represents the need to set forth on a new journey, one that is completely unknown and will take you to uncharted territories. The Fool is all about new experiences, personal growth, development and adventure.

Rain in June wasn’t the most common of things but it happened. The air had been damp and heavy the entire day, omen of a storm to come. Water pounded steadily against the windows of Magnus’ apartment, the grumble of thunder discernable from time to time through the chaos of rain. 

Magnus’ hair was wet, not from the rain outside but from his quite recent shower. The foreign feelings that now constantly pervaded his apartment tended to make him feel dirtier than usual. He brought the warm mug of tea to his lips and took a sip. The liquid was hot, and the flavor was light. Jasmine green tea. It was his favorite, and something that brought him comfort. 

He picked at a loose thread of his dark blue cotton pants. They were several years old but they were comfortable and soft. The elastic part around his ankles was distended. 

“You haven’t answered our question.” 

Dorothea’s voice brought him back to the three people sitting around him. He hadn’t been focusing on their words, only on the rain and his own thoughts. His lack of focus wasn’t that abnormal for him, but he still felt bad for not listening to his family. 

Catarina’s tunic was beautiful. It was rather new, or maybe Magnus had never seen it on her. His own clothes needed a break. He should go shopping soon. He owned some sweaters worn way too often. They brought him comfort but they were way too old and too used. 

Magnus loved new clothes as much as old ones. New shiny clothes, original and soft textures, were his favorite, but there was nothing like a sweater that was hiding in the back of his closet, soft and fluffy, to snuggle in after a bad day.

He pulled himself back into the current conversation again. His head was hurting. Living with someone that disliked him, someone that he himself disliked was emotionally draining. 

“I’m alright,” he said, then fell silent for a moment, just taking another sip. “I’m tired.” 

Catarina gently put her hand on Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus didn’t recoil. He had expected it. His friend often did that. 

“Magnus, dear, we didn’t ask you how you were,” she said softly. She wasn’t angry at him, but Magnus was angry at himself for not listening. He was okay. Catarina took another breath and talked again. “We asked why you decided to help the FBI.” 

That question did make a little more sense. Or at least it was more interesting. Magnus was too tired to explain every single bit of his thought process, of what had led to his decision. He could see that it was questionable, but he didn’t want to discuss it in too much detail. 

“My first ever vocation was medicine, like it was yours,” he replied. “I want to help people. That’s why I do what I do. I know reading cards doesn’t amount to much, but people come to me for guidance and I give it to them. The FBI came to me for guidance, so I will give it to them.” 

It was the simplest explanation he could muster for all the reasons that had pushed him into this, knowing full well that he was risking a lot. He was risking his life and his sanity. But those things didn’t amount to much, not when he could save many other lives. 

“It’s dangerous, Magnus.” Ragnor had concern in his voice. Magnus could understand that. But he was tired. He didn’t feel like arguing, not right now. 

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to help them. You don’t have to put yourself through something like this. We’ve seen you traumatised before, and we saw you after the episode last week.” 

“You don’t want to see me like that again,” Magnus finished for him. “I can understand that. But don’t you see, that’s not enough.” There was a stunned silence. 

Magnus knew every single of the points they would try to make. It was dangerous, for his physical and mental health. He could end up completely insane, worse than he’d ever been before. He could end up dead for helping the FBI, for helping people who chased after the worst of humanity. 

He could get shot while visiting a crime scene, shot by someone wanting revenge, he could end up hurt in thousands of ways, and he knew all of those alternatives were absolutely possible. 

He had thought about that, went through all of those options in his head. He was just tired. There was no getting away from the case. Magnus was forced to be around the people investigating it every day, he was forced to be involved. The least he could do was try to make this hellish situation worth it for someone. 

“You’re not going to listen to us on this point, are you?” Dot asked and Magnus nodded in reply. 

“Nothing against you guys,” he said. “But I’ve made my decision. And it’s not like I’m trapped or anything. I can pull out of this any time I want. My consulting will be entirely off the record.” 

Those were the terms the team had offered. Non-official, short-term consulting, and they reserved the right not to listen to what he was saying. That worked for him. He knew he was probably not going to get much more, especially from Agent Lightwood. 

His friends looked slightly relieved at the knowledge it could stop anytime he wanted. They did know he was stubborn enough not to, but hoped he would be careful. 

Catarina and Dorothea exchanged a look. Sometimes, Magnus was like the little brother of the group. He was a mess and got into troubles easily, and he was stubborn as they came when he set his mind to something. They loved him, but Magnus had always been intense. 

“I love you, all of you,” Magnus added after a while, looking up from his cup to look at them. “I just need to do this. I can’t stay there and do nothing, not when I’m involved like this. I -- I felt what the last victim felt. The fear, the pain... I can still feel it, a little. I don’t want anyone else to go through that again, and I don’t want to live knowing that I didn’t even try to help.” 

“We understand. We just don’t want to lose you to this,” Ragnor said softly. “We want you to be okay.” 

It felt to all of them like they were repeating the same things over and over again. Magnus repeated why he wanted to help, and his friends repeated why they were worried. Why they were afraid for him. 

This conversation was leading nowhere, but it was still comforting to Magnus, in a way. His friends were comforting, and his tired mind was thankful for their presence. Maybe if they just stayed there and didn’t talk, it would be perfect. 

He loved them, but right now, he wanted them to let him live his life and to stop talking. It was too much. But soon enough they would be gone and he would be alone for a while, until the agent came home. He could maybe take another shower, or just stay on the couch and listen to the rain. Chairman was currently napping somewhere, probably under some piece of furniture. 

The other psychics headed out a few minutes later. They were worried by Magnus’ silence, but everything that was going on lately was weighing on him. He was obviously tired. He was often like this. He could get tired and a bit aggressive. They didn’t have his gift, and they couldn’t really feel what he felt. Sometimes, it drove a wall in between them. They just hoped he would always come back to him. 

Once they had left and Magnus was done with washing the mugs and the teapot, he decided to paint. He hadn’t worked on his latest deck in way too long. He needed to finish the card he’d started around two weeks ago, before everything had begun. 

It was a Major Arcana deck, one that had been requested by a client who wanted to have their own. Magnus occasionally sold the decks he made. He billed the time spent and the quality of the drawings, but preferred the more elaborate orders, not because they were more profitable, but because he enjoyed making them. 

This deck was simple enough. Twenty-two cards, cut in dark red paperboard. He’d already done the first ten of them, working today on the eleventh one. The Wheel of Fortune. It wasn’t his favorite of the Major Arcana, but it was intricate enough to keep him busy and focused. He walked into his study, and sat at his desk. 

He searched for the right card. He remembered having started on it, traced the outline of the patterns with a coal pencil. He needed to go over it with ink before he went over which parts to color. 

The wind was still tapping against the window, this time against the window of the study. The study was smaller than the living room, so the sound was a bit amplified. It was definitely calming. 

Taking out the inkpot and the quill, he poured some black ink into the ceramic and started tracing delicately the lines, focusing everything on the fine work. 

Time passed faster when he was focusing on such a task. He didn’t look at the clock when Chairman came to lay on the desk next to him, tail occasionally brushing against his elbow as he worked. It was peaceful and comforting and he just wanted this pocket of serenity to last forever. 

Unfortunately, it did not. 

Magnus didn’t look up when he heard the door open and close, barely registering the sound. It seemed quite far away, and he was finishing the last few lines of the card he had to trace with ink. They were small circles and intricate details on the wheel that required some time. 

The door to the study was closed, but it didn’t stay that way for long. The study separated the living room from the guest bedroom, and Magnus hadn’t thought about the upcoming arrival of his guest, Agent Lightwood, until the door of the room suddenly opened and he almost had a heart attack. 

Somehow, surely thanks to an act from God, no ink spilled. Nothing was ruined. Both Chairman and Magnus were spooked but they were fine. Perfectly fine. Just fine, if Magnus could get his heart to stop beating so hard it could be heard through the entire neighborhood. 

Agent Lightwood was soaking wet, obviously. Magnus could smell the wetness coming from the man, and he scrunched his nose. The dark-haired man sighed. 

“I couldn’t escape the rain. Sorry.” He he walked past Magnus and Chairman and straight into the guest room. 

Magnus heard the door lock behind him. The man shouldn’t worry about Magnus walking in there while he changed. Magnus might be bisexual, but he had morals. He wasn’t going to play voyeur on the man supposed to keep him safe, no matter what the stereotypes might suggest. Even if he found the man attractive. 

He had no idea what to get for dinner, so he just decided to wait until the man was back from drying himself off, and then ask if ordering Chinese worked for him. He was still testing out his guests’ tastes and didn’t want to make this worse by offering food they didn’t like. No food should be wasted on unappreciative people. 

Magnus returned his attention to the card, finishing inking the last lines. He then grabbed the pencil again, and started writing numbers on certain areas. The numbers were linked to colors he was going to use on those certain areas later on. Every area marked with a ‘1’ would be colored in black. 

It was a nice way to prepare his work for the next session. He should be trying to hurry on this deck. He didn’t have a due date, but he’d rather not have his client wait too long for him to be done. The more time passed, the less financially beneficial it was for him to sell the deck. Clients might cancel their orders if he took too long, and he would only be left with the security deposit. Also, the more time he spent on those cards, the more he got attached to them and wanted to keep them. 

He was finishing up and reaching for Justice, the twelfth card, as to not start painting something he wouldn’t finish today, when the door was unlocked, and the agent emerged from his room. Magnus turned to him to offer a small smile. 

The man smiled back, a bit awkwardly. His hair was still damp and stuck out at strange angles, but he was dry and wearing clothing that was more casual than the suit he wore to work. 

They looked at each other for a moment, silent and tense. Lightwood ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips, peering at the desk. He opened his mouth, obviously wanting to say something but hesitating. 

Magnus raised an eyebrow, waiting for an off-handed comment that would be designed to humiliate him and his practices. Lightwood was definitely not the worse of the two agents, and Magnus might even have described him as ‘pleasant’, but only when the man wasn’t around to hear it. 

There was a bit more awkward silence before agent finally spoke. 

“I… You… I could cook, if you want, tonight,” he mumbled, hands running over his hair again to give himself something to do. He couldn’t fidget right now. 

Bane had been giving them food for a while now. Two weeks, of Jace and his stomachs. It had to amount to a certain waste, a sum of money Bane was putting into feeding them that wasn’t in his usual budget. 

Alec felt almost guilty about it. The man had been cooking for people who were rude, or at least skeptical of his gifts enough for him to be comfortable. He could see it, most of the time, how the man tensed around him. 

Bane wasn’t his personal cook and he was spending too much money on him as it was. Alec just wanted to help. Besides, the psychic was pleasant enough with him. The guy was nice, even when Alec wasn’t. He was flexible, at least when it came to meal hours. He was all around not the worst person of interest Alec had ever had to deal with. And he was easy on the eyes, which was always a plus. 

He still didn’t believe much of what he was saying, but he still was trying his best to be civil to the guy. Izzy sometimes said that being nice could open doors. Maybe if he was nice enough, Bane’s guard would come down and he would tell him how everything about his so-called gift was a lie, a farce to manipulate people into spending money. 

After all, there had to be a trick. The apartment seemed rather expensive, and he’d seen Bane wear some fancy-looking clothing, especially one pair of black striped pants that Alec had noticed. 

“No.” 

The coldness of the man’s tone brought Alec back to reality abruptly. 

“Excuse me?” He replied, both not understand why the man had refused, and a bit turned off by the tone. 

Alec was trying to be nice, he was trying very hard, but if Bane wasn’t going to humor him, then there was no point in trying. He didn’t want to make efforts if those would be made with that kind of attitude. 

“No, thank you,” Bane amended. “I dislike having strangers around my kitchen. I apologize if I sounded… harsh.” Bane rubbed his fingers together. He was obviously as embarrassed as Alec.

Being nice was a bad idea, the man concluded. He needed to tell Izzy that before she roped him into another lesson about etiquette. Alec had always preferred honesty to senseless politeness anyway. 

Ever since he’d been a child, his brashness and lack of filter had been a problem. Eventually, his mother had explained to him very clearly, that if he didn’t keep his mouth shut, he would end up locked in his bedroom during dinner time, or forbidden from seeing Uncle Maxwell, his mother’s brother, that Alec adored. The worst punishment of all had been getting his art supplies locked away until they decided he had learned his lesson. 

So he’d become quiet, and had been so until he’d left the family home. He hadn’t been back since. 

“It’s nothing. I was just offering,” Alec muttered and took a step back towards the guest room. It was fine, really. He just needed to stop being nice. 

“I’m sorry. Thank you for the offer. Maybe, i’ll take you up on it eventually,” Magnus replied, looking at him. He knew he had fucked up. 

Magnus hadn’t meant to be harsh. He just hated having strangers around his kitchen. He didn’t really know why, but he just did. He should have cut the guy some slack maybe, but he didn’t want him in there. 

Magnus remembered what he’d planned to ask then. “I’m ordering Chinese,” he called. “You should come and get the menu, tell me what you want.” The man was already halfway through the door of the guest room. 

Lightwood paused, and was silent for a moment. Magnus worried he was going to lash out at him. It would make sense. The man probably wanted to be left alone, after Magnus had acted this way. 

If he was being completely honest, Magnus did think Alec Lightwood deserved some shit, after being an asshole during the investigation, and having threatened to violate Magnus’ private spaces. But Magnus still shouldn’t have talked that way. Karma would get Lightwood eventually. 

The agent finally turned back towards him. “Let me pay for it. You shouldn’t spend money on me like that,” he muttered. 

Oh. 

So it hadn’t been about cooking, really. It was about the money Magnus was spending on them. He felt like an asshole now, for being harsh when it had just been a good-hearted offer. 

“All right. You can pay,” was all he said, despite wanting to apologize way more. He’d do so later.

He wanted to talk a little with the guy tonight. Maybe Alec Lightwood wasn’t that much of an asshole. Magnus doubted it, but there was still a slim chance. Always believing in the good in people was supposed to be an advantage. 

Besides, Magnus would be more comfortable without the jabs of frustration and anger that radiated from the man ofte, and the occasional huff of discontent at the situation. Magnus understood why the man was angry. He was too. But he had to try to make this better for both of them. 

Alec led the way into the living room, Magnus turning off the light of the study as they left. He would go back to the cards tomorrow. He offered tea and the man hesitated before accepting.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Magnus walked around the kitchen with the teas and teapot. 

“What tea do you want?” he called over his shoulder, and he could tell by the silence that the man had no idea what he wanted. Lightwood didn’t seem like much of a tea person. He was probably making an effort for him. That was very appreciated. 

“The one you prefer. I’ll just… drink that,” Lightwood replied. 

Magnus hummed in response, but prepped a second cup. He wouldn’t have minded preparing two different cups, but it was Lightwood’s choice. If the man wanted to try Magnus’ favorite, then he would. 

Making the tea didn’t take as long as he would have liked, and eventually, he couldn’t do much more buzzing around the kitchen to distract himself and avoid conversation. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over at the agent. 

The agent was currently engaged in a staring match with Chairman, who had accompanied them back into the room. Magnus smiled softly at the scene, before catching himself and swallowing. 

He grabbed the flyer off the kitchen counter. His usual order, along with Ragnor’s, Catarina’s and Dorothea’s, was circled with a blue marker. He walked over to the couch to offer it to the man. 

“Here’s the menu. Choose what you want. After all, you’re paying,” he reminded him, a light teasing note in his voice. The agent sent him a stern look. Not a big fan of humor, that one, Magnus thought. 

Lightwood took the menu from Magnus’ hand with a nod and started going over it in silence. Magnus shared a look with Chairman, almost certain the cat was as frustrated as he was. Chairman understood what Magnus was going through, understood the discomfort of having his territory invaded by a stranger. He was a cat, after all. 

The awkwardness and heaviness of the silence was making Magnus uncomfortable. It lasted for what felt like an hour, but was in reality only a minute or two. Alec was conscious of Bane’s gaze on him, and it was making him a bit skittish, but he didn’t do or say anything. There was a weird strange balance between the two of them and he didn’t want to shatter it by being stupid.

“The Kung Pao Chicken sounds nice,” he decided. He knew the usual basis for that dish so it was a safe choice. Alec wasn’t a huge fan of risk-taking, anyway. 

“So a Kung Pao Chicken and a Moo Goo Gai Pan,” Bane muttered and grabbed the menu from Alec again. “I’ll call the place.” 

He grabbed his phone and called, ordering the two dishes as well as some spring rolls to go with it. He was done pretty quickly, right around the time the water for the teas was up to a boil. 

Magnus went back to busying himself in the kitchen pouring water into the pot and putting everything on a tray. The mugs were mismatched, just as Magnus liked them. He bought one here and one there, whenever he came across one that he found pretty. He ended up with way too many mugs for a man who lived alone and only had three friends. 

The tray was set on the coffee table in the living room. Alec peered at the teapot, slightly curious as to what the beverage would taste like. He’d only drank tea a few times as a child, when his mother took him to her friend’s house. He associated the drink with the dull boredom of those afternoons. 

Bane was skilled in serving the hot beverage, Alec noticed. There was a comfortable fluidity in his motions, and he knew how much strength to use to pick up the water-filled pot. It spoke of a man used to those motions. 

Alec’s gaze travelled over the fingers wrapped around the pot’s handle, up the man’s arm to his face. Bane’s gaze was fixed on the water pouring out of the pot, yet somehow lost into contemplation at the same time, another testimony to the habit ingrained in the gesture through long practice. 

Alec briefly wondered if he looked like this, determinedly melancholic, when he poured his coffee in the morning. According to Izzy, he looked like he had been hit by a couple freight-trains, and maybe a cruise ship. So he probably looked nothing like Bane did right now. 

Not that Bane looked like anything particularly enjoyable to watch. 

Alec reached for his cup. It smelled good. A light, subtle scent that Alec recognized, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he had smelled it before. It was different from what he was used to smelling.

It showed that Lightwood wasn’t used to tea. As he smelled it, his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. There was curiosity on his features, and Magnus realized he hadn’t really seen much more than frustration on Lightwood. 

It always seemed to be there when Lightwood was around, something looming over him. People dying? Responsibility? One of his agents being a dumbass? All of those, and maybe even more? 

Right now, Magnus couldn’t see much of the frustration and exhaustion and anger that usually clouded Lightwood’s face. He just saw genuine curiosity, and a strange softness. He was staring, he realized, but decided against looking away. Still, his gift kept him tuned to the man’s emotions, and he could feel the curiosity coming off of it. Curiosity felt sharp, like suddenly biting into the spicy pepper you’d used in a dish but forgotten about. 

The man took a sip of the still-hot drink, and Magnus worried he’d burnt himself for a second. He reached for his own mug, and took his own sip, letting the warmth and familiar aroma fill him with a bone-deep comfort. 

When he looked back at the agent, there was a light wince on his lips, and Magnus chuckled. 

“You hate it,” he said and the man immediately shook his head. 

“No, no, I like it. I’m just not used to it.” 

Tea was a bit special, not to everyone’s taste. And even if one did like tea, there were so many flavors and types to choose from that it was always about knowing someone’s specific taste, when you offered tea. 

Magnus owned a pear-chocolate infusion that he never drank himself, but had bought for a regular client. In all honesty, he found the very concept of the infusion quite disgusting, and was thinking about giving the box out to the client. It was an insult to his carefully-selected, expensive teas. 

Magnus had always loved tea, ever since his childhood. There had always been something almost sacred about tea in his family. His mother had owned a box of special tea, that she only took out for big celebrations, or the worst of days. Magnus had never known what kind of tea it was, only that it was green tea, and expensive, way too expensive to be drunk every day and bought often. 

He had himself tasted that special tea only a couple of times: when he’d graduated high school, when he’d gotten into college, when she’d told him she was going back to Indonesia, and the day after her departure. 

She’d left him the box, telling him that she didn’t know if she was coming back. She was tired, and she had her mother to take care of. New York had never been her home, like it had been for Magnus. She had told him she missed Jakarta immensely, the people and the language, and she couldn’t stand being here anymore. She had stayed as long as she could, as long as she had to, so Magnus could have the opportunities she wanted him to have. And then he’d had a job, and college, and she didn’t have much to do in New York anymore.

Magnus hadn’t understood why she was leaving him behind then, and had made too much tea on purpose the day after she’d left, wasting the precious leaves. He’d hated himself for it after. His mother needed to take care of her own mother, and it wasn’t something he could blame her for. 

He’d felt alone back then, but she was doing good. She missed him, but she was home and she was happy. They called each other a couple times a month. They never had much to say to each other, distance and Magnus’ gift pushing them apart. It had been six years. The box was in the back of Magnus’ tea shelf, behind the others he owned, untouched. 

“You don’t have to like it,” Magnus said softly, noticing the silence that had settled into the room. Even Chairman was bored and uninterested, napping instead of watching the agent like a hawk. 

“I -” the man started, licking his lips and swallowing, obviously struggling to explain exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t not like it,” he clarified. “I just - I’m not used to it. I only drink coffee. Haven’t gotten tea in a long time.” 

“And you probably noticed I don’t even own a coffee machine.” Magnus chuckled, and there was a little smile peeking at the corner of Alec Lightwood’s mouth. 

“Yeah, I noticed. I just added that to the list of the strange things about you.” 

Magnus raised an eyebrow. A list? Interesting. He was curious to know what was on that list. Maybe it was too soon in their shift in dynamic to ask. It wasn’t even clear if the dynamic had shifted. All he knew was that they weren’t snapping at each other. They were just… being nice. 

“I know you’re wondering about it,” the man added. “Y’know… what’s on the list.” 

“Would you be willing to tell me?” Magnus asked. 

Alec looked up from his cup then, eyebrows shooting up. He felt a bit caught in the headlights, because he hadn’t expected the man to ask. Bane was unexpected. So many things were out of place in this man and in his life, or at least Alec found them out of place. 

“The guest bedroom looks more like a master bedroom than your bedroom does. There’s no order to the books in your library. Everything is chaotic -” He paused, looking down again, and turning the cup in his hands. He didn’t want to offend him. “I find everything chaotic,” he specified. “I’m a very tidy person. I find strange the way everything here is… out of order. Like it was randomly thrown there.”

“Maybe it was fate,” Bane mused. 

“I don’t believe in fate. Even chaos has laws, in physics.”

Alec just found Bane unsettling, like a big question mark, a puzzle that he couldn’t solve. There was no explanation for Bane, and it was making him both uneasy and intrigued. He wanted to find an explanation. 

“There’s something else about you too. Your name,” Alec added after a certain silence had settled. That very thing had bugged him since the interrogation. It had been the first of the secrets, the first thing he’d noticed that made him want to ask question after question. 

“What about my name?” There was something strange in Bane’s voice, and Alec looked up, wondering what had caused the change. Bane’s face was an unreadable mask, a tension in his jaw Alec had never seen before. He wondered if he should stop pushing, but his curiosity drove him onwards.

“Why did you change it?” Alec asked and he saw something close off in the man. It had been too early, and he had gone too fast, and he could feel it. He could feel that this was too much for their first real conversation. 

He couldn’t help it, though. Past the initial contempt and frustration at his lack of understanding, Alec was now intrigued, curious even. But he wouldn’t get his answers today. 

“That is a story for another time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you to my beta @loveislarryislove on tumblr, to my wonderful artist @some-thrilling-heroics, and to my helping caring friend lewispanda (both on tumblr and on here)
> 
> Thank you to all of y'all who read this every week and give that fic some love, every kudos and comment make me smile.


	7. VII: The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Love, union, relationships, values alignment, choices  
> Reversed: Disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values
> 
> The Lovers represent perfection, harmony and mutual attractiveness. Their trust in one another gives them strength and confidence to overcome the obstacles in life. The bond that the two lovers has created is incredibly strong and is often reflective of a marriage, soul mate connection or very intimate and close relationship.  
> The Lovers can also indicate a very strong sexual connection that goes beyond instant gratification and lust to suggest a very deep desire and passion that exists between two beings. The physical attraction is strong and so too is the desire to be intimate with one another.  
> On a more personal level, the Lovers card represents the establishment of a personal belief system and becoming clearer about your own values. This is a time when you are figuring out what you stand for and what your personal philosophy on life is.

Dorothea Loss-Rollins was chasing after a gaggle of geese when something started screaming. She groaned loudly when she realized that it was her alarm, the old-timey clock ringing in a shrill tone. 

The alarm was Germany made, circa 1920, one of the old-fashioned curiosities she hadn’t put on display in her antiques shop, but kept for herself. The ticking noise of it was rather loud, but both her and Catarina had grown used to it, so much that it didn’t keep them awake anymore. 

Dot opened her eyes and turned the alarm off. She settled back in bed and smiled softly, watching her still-sleeping wife. Catarina was tired these days. There was a lot of work at the ER, a lot of people hurting that she wished she could save, and there was the mess with Magnus. She deserved sleep, more than anyone else. 

Today was her day off, so she could sleep in and rest and charge up to go back to her chaotic hospital. Dot had taken the day off as well, planning to do everything to make it as comforting and replenishing for them both, as possible. 

Right now, she was content just watching Cat sleep. Her hair was wrapped in an indigo silk head scarf, like it was every night. She’d been wearing her hair straightened for some time, and pinning it down was the only way to keep it nice. Dot didn’t mind. She found the scarf beautiful on her wife, and watching her prepare for bed was a wonderful experience every time. 

Cat looked relaxed and soft and comfy and incredibly beautiful, and Dot moved to wrap an arm around her and keep her close. 

“My wife,” she thought, pressing a kiss to the woman’s forehead. Some days, she just couldn’t believe that this was real. They’d gotten married in September of 2015. In a few months, it would be two years. It seemed like they’d been married forever though. Dot didn’t believe in soulmates, but if anyone were hers, it would be Catarina. 

They’d met at a bar. That was a pretty normal way to meet someone. You went to a bar, drank something, started a conversation, and one thing led to another. Technically, that was what had happened. 

Dot had been invited by friends to go get a drink, under the promise of enjoying herself, and maybe seeing a cute girl or a cute guy. She’d almost walked out the second after her first step into the bar. A huge sign had read “Single’s Night, Speed Dating”, and she’d wanted to run off. 

Her last relationship hadn’t been that long ago, and she enjoyed being single and doing whatever she wanted. She didn’t need anyone else in her life right then. She had been struggling to open her own shop, struggling with paying the bills to open the place, and struggling with her own housing situation. Having someone else around could potentially be disastrous, especially if that person didn’t know her well. 

So she’d politely refused to take part in the actual speed dating. She had a glass of white, a high stool, and a nice view of everyone around. If she wanted to ask for a number, she would. 

She had settled at the bar, nursing her drink, and watching as her friends went onto horrible date after horrible date. The looks on their faces made her be thankful to have sat that one out. 

Then she’d seen her. A tall, gorgeous, black woman, with her own glass of wine - hers being red - watching, in the same slightly sadistic fashion, the demise of her own friends. They had seen each other, eyes catching, and had started up a conversation. 

Catarina Loss had been a recently graduated nurse, celebrating with a few drinks her soon-to-be-starting job at the Beth Israel Hospital. They’d talked for a while, until Dot had asked her why she wasn’t on the speed dating floor. 

There had been a little silence and a big gulp of wine, and then the woman had came out as a lesbian. Dot had immediately smiled, and she still remembered the slight relief that came with coming out to a stranger and being accepted on Cat’s face. 

They’d cheered to being fellow sapphics, Dorothea being bisexual herself and everything had started from there. And now, every morning, Dot got to wake up around this wonderful woman. 

Said wonderful woman was currently huffing as she woke up, snuggled against Dot’s chest. 

“Morning, honey,” Dot whispered, and Catarina smiled softly, her eyes still closed but her arm reaching to pull Dot tight against her. 

She finally opened her eyes, sleepy dark irises full of a tenderness that made Dot’s heart beat faster. 

“What a wonderful sight, in the morning.” Cat’s voice was a whisper but Dot was listening intently, not missing a single sound that came out of her mouth. She loved her wife in the mornings like this, soft and sleepy, still free from the day’s worries. 

Catarina shifted, wrapping a leg over Dot’s, and Dot’s hand snuck down to rest on Cat’s thigh, tracing patterns onto her bare skin. There was a bit of noise outside, and the rays of sun caressing their skin, warming them further than being with each other already did. 

“Let’s spend the day in bed,” Dorothea whispered, and if the content huff coming from her wife was any indication, the woman agreed completely. They shifted a little more, until Dot was on her back, Catarina with a leg over hers and her head resting on Dot’s breast. 

“Is my boob comfy, babe?” Dot asked, and Catarina chuckled. 

“Very much so.” 

They both laughed softly and snuggled closer. Dot grabbed her phone, going through her notifications, and commenting out loud to Catarina. 

“Magnus is doing good. Ragnor is… mad about something. Not sure what or why, but pretty much expected,” she muttered. “The new ep of Sapphic Skywalkers is out.” 

“Put it up,” Catarina immediately asked. 

They both enjoyed the podcast, which discussed female characters and LGBTQ+ representation in the Star Wars universe. It was just enough nerdiness for them, and the right issues, and everything they loved. 

Space Lesbians were a very amazing conversation subject. Catarina was a huge fan of the Star Wars franchise, and though Dot hadn’t really been into it before, she’d come to enjoy watching and discussing the universe. But her favorite part was how happy it made Catarina. 

Dot reached towards the bedside table, turning on the bluetooth speaker to play the episode as they lay in bed. It was pretty quick to pick up the signal from her phone, and soon enough, they were back to cuddling, Natalie and Lynn’s voices playing in the background. 

Catarina rearranged the sheets and the blanket on top of them so it covered them nicely, keeping them warm and in a soft cocoon. Mornings together were the thing Catarina preferred above all other mornings. This was her safe space, in her bed with her wife, their favorite podcast playing, with the promise of a perfect, restful day, the promise of waffles for breakfast - the promise of everything. 

She wanted to stay forever in this very moment. 

They stayed there, cuddling, for the following hour, listening to the podcast. When it was done, they finally got out of bed, going around the kitchen with music playing. Catarina just wanted to stay home, stay weightless from the lack of the worries that usually brought heaviness to her steps, stay this happy and in love forever. 

Married life could be a blast, and they were having the time of their lives, dancing in their pyjamas and singing out loud “Isn’t She Lovely”. 

\-----

Izzy was so used to waking up at the same hour every day, by Alec’s alarm and then hers, that she woke up without needing anything that day. The mattress felt different, and that’s how she realized that she wasn’t home. 

Her mattress in Alec and her’s apartment was rather firm, but this one was more on the soft side. She hadn’t slept at home, which was rather surprising. Soft snores were coming from somewhere in her vicinity. So she had slept with someone, and then fallen asleep. 

That was quite rare of her, if she was being honest. Recently, she’d been a rather one-night-stand, come-and-go, kind of girl. Maybe it was the blooming of relationships around her, maybe was it just because she didn’t have time, and didn’t have the patience to get to know people. Maybe she just wanted to satisfy some needs, and then leave. That was often what she thought. Sex was fun, took out the frustration of her daily life that she couldn’t get out in the gym, and gave her a nice rush of endorphins. 

She had some regular fuck buddies. People she saw regularly, that she could call whenever she felt like having sex, and they could call her too. Mutually beneficial relationship. They went out for drinks, or for coffee, and she went home to sleep before work. 

Not this time, though. For some reason, she’d stayed the night. Maybe the constant vigilance and constant workload from the current investigation had tired her more than she’d thought. 

She turned around to peer at who she’d spent the night with. Man or woman; usual fuck buddy or one night stand? It was probably a fuck buddy; she wouldn’t feel safe enough to fall asleep in a one-night-stand’s bed. 

The man was facing away from her, but there were recognizable tattoos running over his arms and shoulders. Meliorn. 

Meliorn was definitely the person she enjoyed seeing the most. He was handsome, smart, definitely great in bed, and great at making her feel good, which was sometimes hard to find. Selfish men were too common, and she was always glad Meliorn wasn’t one of them. She did remember falling asleep at his place now. She was a mess in the mornings. 

She reached for her phone to check the time. She wasn’t late; she was even a little early. Perfect. She would have time to go back home and change before going into work. She’d probably need to eat breakfast on the way, but it wasn’t that bad. 

She stretched a little and sat up. She was naked, which was pretty much to be expected considering last night’s activities. She leaned over Meliorn’s sleeping body, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His nose scrunched and she felt something warm in her chest. She wondered how he would react if he woke up to her still being there. Maybe she could shower here. Grab one of his tank tops, and throw her blazer on it. 

She slipped out of bed anyway, going against the little voice in her head that told her to cuddle up to the olive-skinned man and stay there longer, just enjoying a bit of morning softness. That was the one thing she missed about having a partner. 

Grabbing her clothes from off the floor, she walked to the bathroom and looked at herself. Thank God for Meliorn’s makeup. She was a little lighter than him, but they had a close-enough skin tone than using his concealer wouldn’t be that bad. 

The water was warm as she stepped under it, keeping her hair dry. She didn’t know if Meliorn owned a hairdryer, and she didn’t have the time to let it dry naturally, nor the patience for the frizziness that would result. Meliorn did have long luscious hair, so he might have the appropriate machinery for it, but he was also a very clean ecology-oriented man, so a hair dryer could very well not be in his arsenal. 

She was reaching for the soap when she heard a knock on the bathroom door and someone opening it. 

“May I join?” 

Meliorn’s voice was loud enough for her to hear it over the noise of the water hitting the shower floor, and she nodded. She realized he could see her behind the curtain, and replied. 

“Sure!” 

A few seconds later, the man was stepping behind the curtain and coming to wrap his arms around her. Before he could get her hair wet by moving her under the spray, she shifted to the side. 

“Do you have a hairdryer?” she asked, very seriously. 

“Somewhere, yes. I’ll find it for you later.” 

Perfect. So she could make out with him and get her hair wet, and not have to care about arriving at work with damp hair. The day was starting off really good. She smiled widely at him and thanked him, then leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. 

“I’m guessing no funny business right now?” he asked against her mouth, in between pecks on her lips and cheeks. 

“Hmm. No time. And condoms and water don’t mix well,” she pointed out and he nodded, pulling her close still. 

His hands caressed down her sides, as he kissed her again, this time deeper. She hummed contentedly and leaned against his touch. They kissed like that for a moment, just standing there against each other, before a smirk appeared on his lips. 

Maybe Izzy’s heart missed a beat right there, maybe it didn’t, but gosh, that smirk was the best thing she’d seen in a while. She’d always liked when Meliorn’s dark eyes shone with mischief. He was always so attractive like this. Attractive in many ways. 

He lifted her up in his arms a little, pressing her back against the wall. His right hand grasped her thigh and he pressed his body against hers. She loved the feeling of those firm muscles against her. Meliorn wasn’t incredibly muscular, but enough for her liking. 

She wrapped her arms around him, fingers slightly digging into his back. It reminded her of the night before, though there had been more force behind it then. She wondered if she had left marks on his back. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He pulled back for a moment, hand reaching to cup her cheek. She huffed, leaning up slightly to go back to kissing him. He stopped her though, letting the warm water roll over them for a second, and looking into her eyes. 

She felt breathless and definitely taken aback. She didn’t know how to act when he acted tender. It was something she wasn’t that used to. She wasn’t really great at dating. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people with whom she’d been with for more than a month. 

“You’re beautiful, Isabelle.”

Fuck. She could feel her cheeks heat up, she could feel a warmth in her chest, butterflies in her stomach, everything. She didn’t know how to react to it, to the compliment from this man’s beautiful lips and the way he held her like she was something precious. 

She didn’t reply, just kissed him back, hard. Maybe sex would have been a better idea, because this left her caught like a deer in headlights, not really knowing how to deal with the feelings she was having. Meliorn’s lips left hers and kissed down her neck, sucking a mark there. 

She tugged at his hair a little, a gasp slipping out of her lips, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the compliment, about the intimate vulnerability in the man’s voice. 

They made out for longer, but she didn’t say anything about the compliment, and he must have understood not to talk about it, because he didn’t repeat it, even when he watched her dress with one of his tank tops, even when she pressed a kiss to his lips as a goodbye, and even when she walked out. 

\-----

It was morning. More or less. 

Alec Lightwood couldn’t sleep. It had to be around 4 am, and the silence was deafening. Somehow, Magnus’ apartment was almost completely silent. Unless you opened all the windows, the noise from outside never came in. 

Alec’s apartment wasn’t like that. It wasn’t as well insulated as Magnus’, and he found the lack of sound strange, especially when he was awake like this. 

The guest bedroom was very comfortable, he thought again as he shifted, turning to lay on his right side. The mattress was just between soft and firm, at that middle ground that made it comfortable enough for most people, and that was good for him. The bedding was clean and soft, and it was obvious that Magnus changed the sheets every week, so he wouldn’t sleep in Jace’s sheets. 

There was a great amount of care coming from the psychic, and it was something unusual in Alec’s book. Not because Izzy didn’t care about him, of course she did, but civilians he worked with rarely enjoyed having him around enough to care about the cleanliness of the sheets he slept in. 

Magnus Bane was still strange, of course, and he regularly said things that made Alec question his sanity, but Alec was slowly accepting that the guy was insane and he shouldn’t try and go against his delusion. It wasn’t like either of them could prove they were right anyway. 

He slipped his hand under the pillow, to rearrange it and lay his head more comfortably. He stared at the darkness outside the window, trying to get himself to fall back to sleep. There was a sudden noise that made him have a small heart attack and the door opened. 

He throwned, hand searching for the gun he kept under the other pillow. Something landed on the bed and his blood froze. His mind was running on a loop of what the fuck, until something furry grazed his bare wrist. 

The cat. 

He probably had forgotten to lock the door, and now the cat was in his bedroom. He gulped. He didn’t know whether he was comfortable there, or not. He didn’t mind cats. He liked them, even; they were quieter than dogs. He just didn’t know if the cat was still hostile or not. Because if he was, maybe he was coming to murder him in his sleep. 

4 am Alec was a bit paranoid. 

He decided to try and wait it out. It wasn’t until the cat was settled on the bed next to him that Alec finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wondered why the cat was here. He always slept with Magnus, who was sleeping in his own bedroom on the other side of the apartment. 

He realized that right now, he couldn’t move without facing possible repercussions from the feline. He’d seen Jace’s shirt, and he didn’t want his back or arm to end up that way, so he stayed as still as possible. 

He stayed like that for a while. He didn’t really know how long, but he knew he couldn’t sleep with so many variables, plus his usual insomnia problems. He sighed. Maybe reading would help him to relax. He could go grab one of Magnus’ books and read in the living room. Or read here. 

He waited a few more moments before cautiously getting out of bed. He was wearing pyjama pants, mainly because he didn’t want to walk around someone else’s apartment wearing only underwear, not if he wasn’t in a relationship with the person in question. 

Alec walked quietly to the study, using the light on his phone to go over the bookshelves and find something to read. Magnus had allowed him to borrow something if he wanted, after the talk they’d had a few days ago. 

He still found the lack of classification disturbing. He was about to reach for a rather interesting-looking volume on the use of color in Eastern Asian visual arts, when he realized that light was coming from the space between the door and the floor. It seemed like Magnus had forgotten to turn off the light. 

Hesitantly, he pushed the door from the study to the main living space open, peeking to see where the light switch was. Instead of the switch, his gaze settled on a form on the couch. He raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open more, taking a step into the room. 

Magnus was curled up on the couch, obviously having fallen asleep in the middle of something. He still had makeup on, wasn’t covered by anything, was also half falling over to the floor, and Alec found it _endearing_. 

Something was wrong with him. The guy was a weird, closed-off, incomprehensible, probably-scamming psychic, and Alec shouldn’t find his soft, relaxed face _endearing_. 

He looked away and shook his head, refocusing himself on the task at hand, which was shutting off the light. 

But then again, Magnus’ position looked in no way comfortable, and the man would wake up cranky and aching There was still time for him to get a couple hours of proper sleep in his own bed. Alec could even carry him there. 

He didn’t. He remembered the first evening of their cohabitation, the rules Magnus had told him - and that he’d ignored. God, he’d acted like a major asshole that day. He had excuses by the truck load, but it still wasn’t enough. He’d just… pushed past the guy’s limits, and abused his own power in such a horrid way. 

He hadn’t really talked to Magnus about it since his mumbled apology on the phone, but he’d made the mental promise to never do anything that would show that threat had been real. So he took a deep breath, and gently nudged Magnus. 

The man huffed, and curled up a little more on himself. “Lightwood, get some control over yourself,” Alec chastised himself as he felt something warm his chest. He should stop now, let the man stay asleep there and hide forever in the bedroom. 

Alec bit his lip and nudged him again. 

“Magnus?” he asked softly, and was surprised when the man woke up easily, blinking up at him with soft eyes and scrunched up nose. 

“What time is it? New murder?” 

The man seemed so out of it that Alec slightly regretted waking him up. But it would be better in the end. A bed was always better than a couch, no matter the situation. 

Alec chuckled lightly. “4 am. And no. You fell asleep on the couch, and I thought you’d be better in a bed. I… I didn’t carry you there though. You mentioned something about me not being allowed in your bedroom so… I didn’t want to overstep.” 

The look of disbelief written all over the man’s face was warranted. God, he’d been an asshole. The man was innocent, and Alec had allowed his own exhaustion to turn him into some… asshat. 

“Thank you,” Magnus breathed, sitting up and stretching. 

They stayed like that for a moment, silent, watching each other. Finally, Magnus looked down, sighing with a little hint of a smile. Alec smiled back. 

This man was soft. And Alec was so… not. Alec was made of sharp edges, of clashing feelings, of distrust and anger and and frustration. And Magnus was... everything he wasn’t. It was so strange, to be living with a man so wildly different to him. 

“You still can sleep a few hours… I… You should go,” Alec muttered, unsure of what else to say. 

“What about you?” 

Alec ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously fidgeting with a pencil that was on the table, next to the rest of the art supplies the man had obviously been using before falling asleep. He started gently twirling it in his hand, and thinking more thoroughly about what he could answer. 

“I’m having problems sleeping,” he admitted at last. 

He didn’t like saying those things. The things that made him seem less… prepared for everything. He needed to appear in control. He needed to be in control. He couldn’t even sleep properly, and he was expected to catch a murderer. 

He shook his head and looked away for a moment. 

Magnus’ eyes followed the man. Magnus didn’t understand much of what was happening right now. It was 4 am. Magnus had always felt like 4 am was like a forgotten pocket of time, like a bubble where there was no morning or evening, some kind of protected universe. And everything that happened at 4 am was… out of time. 

Tomorrow, Alec Lightwood would go back to being cold and harsh, to not caring about anything, even himself. But right now, it was 4 am, and he was smiling a little, and he was honest and young and it was surprising. 

Magnus felt grateful the man had apologized about the threat he’d made on the first night. He could see in those hazel eyes that he truly felt sorry for his behavior. 

This didn’t make sense, but Magnus didn’t want to have to go back to having the other agent, Herondale, around after Alec went back to his own place for the week. It was selfish, but even if he didn’t fully trust him yet, he knew he didn’t mean anything bad. And his respect of Magnus’ boundaries tonight was helping greatly. 

Maybe, in this twilight-zone like moment at 4 am, an understanding was blooming between the two of them. 

Alec had long eyelashes, Magnus noticed. Unfairly long. They framed his eyes perfectly though. And there were still those sharp, sharp cheekbones he’d noticed before. Alec looked tired but he also looked good. 

Magnus realized he was staring and reached for his phone to check the time. 4:26 am. That was why he was acting so strangely. It was way too late and he needed proper, comfortable sleep. 

“Thank you for waking me. And I hope you can go back to sleep,” he said suddenly, standing up. He’d tidy the pencils and brushes that were on the living room table later. Tomorrow. 

“It’s nothing. And thank you. Go back to bed.” 

They exchanged a smile, though it only lasted for a second. Alec’s smile was tired and small, but genuine and soft. Magnus’ was thankful. Again, a beat passed, a moment they didn’t say anything but just smiled. 

A few seconds later, Magnus was closing the door to his bedroom and slipping under his white-covered duvet, while Alec gazed thoughtfully at the unfinished card on the table. 

\-----

Maia Roberts woke up to her name being called by a familiar voice. It was early, too early for her, and she just wanted to wrap her arms around Clary’s strong waist and pull her down to the bed, pull her down under the covers. 

They could go back to sleep, and cuddle until they needed food -- together, close, and without worrying about the world outside. She knew that today, a new body would be found, and she knew that Clary dreaded those mornings. No one on the team could pretend the world was safe, when they knew when the murderer struck. 

Every morning, Clary went to the gym to run and keep her body in shape. She woke up very early, too early for Maia who usually fell asleep later. She grabbed a coffee and went for her exercise time, and when she came home, she woke up her girlfriend. 

Regularly, Clary could be convinced to come back to bed, but Maia knew the redhead wasn’t in the mood for anything this morning. Not when there would soon be the vicious reminder of a killer still on the loose. 

Maia sighed and opened her eyes, leaning up to press a kiss to Clary’s lips. 

“Hey, baby,” Clary said softly, her voice sounding almost too chipper. She was not in the best of moods, but she was trying very hard not to be grumpy when her girlfriend woke up. 

“Hey,” Maia replied and reached to cup Clary’s cheek, thumb brushing against her skin. 

Clary was still a bit flushed from her workout, and she looked gorgeous in her sports bra and shorts, her body on display in a way Maia very much appreciated. Maia would gladly die for those abs. She would gladly die for all of her. 

Maia sat up and stretched, before turning towards her girlfriend and smiling again, wider. 

“Go shower, I’ll make us breakfast,” she promised, and Clary kissed her cheek quickly before running off to the bathroom. 

That was their usual arrangement. Maia would make them breakfast while Clary showered, and Clary would eat it while Maia took her turn in the bathroom, waiting to share one coffee with her and spend some time together once Maia was done getting ready. 

Maia went to turn on the coffee machine, and reached for the yogurt, muesli, and fruits. Cold breakfasts were always better for the both of them when they didn’t have a day off. It wouldn’t end up with Maia eating something that had gone cold. Besides, the combination of foods they were used to was perfect to give Clary the energy she needed to catch bad guys. And deal with her boss. 

Maia turned on the TV, switching to a news channel like every morning. It was insane how she - because of Clary’s tension and her involvement in the case - was listening intently, searching for a clue that the new body had been found. 

Maia was a black bisexual woman, and she knew the world wasn’t safe. She’d always known that. It had been in her mother’s warnings about boys, in her family’s warnings about cops, in her friends’ warnings about strangers. 

However, dating Clary had made her painfully aware of how many monsters really existed. She wondered how the agents could go through their lives without always looking over their shoulders, when they knew the horrors humanity was able to commit. 

She scooped the yogurt into two bowls, adding it over the muesli. She was careful not to get any onto the T-shirt she’d worn to bed, one of Clary’s Academy shirts that the other woman had cut and turned into a tank top soon after graduating the training program. It was Maia’s favorite items of clothing, both on herself and on Clary. 

Maia listened to the TV and to the water running in the shower as she cut up a mango for their bowls. It was pretty simple. She enjoyed cooking. Both of them did, and it was good to cook together when they had time. 

She heard the water turn off and knew Clary was stepping out and getting ready. She checked on the coffee machine, then turned to the cupboard to grab mugs . She smiled softly, and put down their favorite two. One was a NYPD mug, that Luke had given Clary when she’s first moved out of her family home. The other had a wolf on it. 

Soon enough, Clary was out of the bathroom. She was wearing a dark grey tank top and pair of khaki jeans, and had her makeup and hair done. She’d chosen to wear her hair up today, in a ponytail, with a few strands framing her face. She looked gorgeous. But then, Maia always thought that.

Maia grinned and kissed her softly before going to take her turn in the bathroom. She was quick in the shower, avoiding wetting her hair. The bathroom was small, just like the rest of the apartment. It only had one bedroom, the main living space, and a bathroom, with a couple closets hidden here and there. 

She showered and got out of there pretty quickly, wanting to spend as much time with Clary as she could. She knew her girlfriend needed support, and she also wanted to spend some more time with the woman she loved. 

Maia styled her hair some, before putting on a denim skirt over a bodysuit. She applied some moisturizer and BB cream before deciding she’d finish her makeup once Clary was gone. After all, she didn’t really have to get ready before Clary was gone, it was just their routine. 

She walked out of the bathroom to find Clary sitting onto the counter, with her shoes on, and a mug of coffee in her hand. Her bowl was still half-full. Maia chuckled and walked towards her, standing between her legs and running her hands over her girlfriend’s thighs. 

“You just had to sit on the counter, when we have great chairs,” she teased, and Clary chuckled, putting down her coffee to wrap her arms around Maia’s neck. 

Maia scooted in closer, tilting her head up a little. There was a smirk on the redhead’s lips and some yogurt on the side of her mouth. Maia leaned in and licked it, because she was gross and in love, and some people found that hot, she supposed. It was just something dorky that made Clary smile wider. 

With those strong arms around her, Maia felt safer than ever. She wished every woman could have a girlfriend like hers, buff and muscled and so gorgeous. Maia could write essays on how strong and almost butch Clary was, and how it made her feel. 

They stayed like this for a moment, just leaning into each other, until Clary pulled back to grab her coffee. Maia grabbed her own bowl of food and started eating, leaning against the counter across from the one Clary sat on. 

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” she murmured, seeing the tension that curled into Clary’s shoulders. So much pressure on someone so kind. 

“I know. But… it’s the 24th. You know how it goes,” Clary replied. There was a line of worry on her forehead. 

They ate and drank their coffee in relative silence, listening to the news and to the rumble of New York life outside of the apartment. Both knew that it was a brief moment of peace, before they were sucked back into the mess of life. 

Eventually, Clary got off the counter and put her dishes in the dishwasher. She moved around the kitchen, going to get her gun and badge, her jacket and her lunch box. It was an old, comic-book lunchbox that was probably made for children. Clary liked it anyway. 

Before she left, she stopped for a moment, and exchanged a look with Maia. There was a heaviness in her eyes. She swallowed, obviously reluctant, obviously sad. 

“I don’t want to go,” she admitted, and Maia put down her coffee to go hug her tightly. 

“I know,” she whispered, letting Clary lean against her a little. “But I believe in you. You’re going to catch the bastard. I know you will.” 

Clary hugged her tightly, sighing softly. At least, she had Maia. If anything, she had her, and everything would be okay, if they were together. 

“I love you, Clary Fray,” Maia added. “Now go and catch some bad guys.” 

Clary pulled her in a kiss, one that threatened to send them back to bed for a moment, and her gaze wasn’t as heavy as it had been before. She could do this. She had to. She repeated her vows of love and smiled softly, promising to be back for dinner. The precinct was a few subway stations away.


	8. VIII: The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Power, skill, concentration, action, resourcefulness  
> Reversed: Manipulation, poor planning, latent talents
> 
> You have the ability to take the power of the Universe and manifest your desires. The Magician Tarot card suggests that a situation has been (or soon will be) presented to you that has all the inherent components to allow the manifestation of your desires.  
> The Magician card sees you creating success in everything that you do. This is a Tarot card about manifesting your goals by utilising the skills, tools and resources that are available to you.   
> This card is a signal to act consciously and act now provided you understand exactly what you want and are committed to getting it. You need to know what you are doing and why you are doing it. Be clear about your underlying motives and intentions.  
> The Magician is also a Tarot card of deep concentration on a specific task or activity. You need to be focused on a single goal or purpose at this time and you need to channel all of your energy, tools and resources towards this one goal.   
> You are keeping a very pragmatic head about you and you are trying to remain as objective and ‘can-do’ as possible, even if you are worried on the inside.

Clary walked into the meeting room of the precinct, fifteen minutes or so after leaving her apartment. She noticed that only Izzy was here. Jace was running late, and Alec was probably still at the psychic’s. 

She went to grab a coffee at the machine, and say hi to Luke. There was a distinct tension in the station, everyone probably aware of the macabre schedule of the serial killer. Clary was tired. She would have given anything to stay home with Maia and just pretend everyone wasn’t in danger. 

She waited for the overused and probably too old vending machine to spit out a poor excuse for a coffee, crossing her arms and looking up at the tiled ceiling. This was making her anxious. Clary wasn’t usually prone to anxiety, but seeing so many women her age, with the same skin color more or less, and never dark-haired, was making her paranoid. 

She was more suspicious of strangers in the subway, tensing if she felt eyes on her, even if they were passing for a second. She looked behind her when she walked, way more than usual, clutching her keys in her hand. She had the training and the physical strength to take down a grown man taller than her, but… she was more worried than she was willing to admit to anyone, even Maia. 

The coffee was finally done and she -

“Alec is late.” 

Izzy appeared out of nowhere next to her, as she was reaching for the cup, and she almost had a heart attack. And almost punched her in the throat. The dark-haired woman took a step back when she realized how tense Clary was and sighed softly. Her hand hovered over Clary’s shoulder, not quite touching her, but trying to reassure her from a distance. Izzy was always careful not to push past boundaries by touching people. 

“How are you doing, Fray?” she asked softly, concern in her frown and in her voice. 

Clary gripped her coffee tightly in one hand, the other shoved in her jeans pocket. She shrugged off the question, bringing the beverage to her lips. 

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Stressed out like you are. Like we all are. We need to catch the bastard before we all go insane.” Or before they caught up with her. 

Izzy was watching her, with that intense look in her eyes that said she knew Clary was more stressed than she was actually saying, but she said nothing. Clary was grateful. Maybe she would have to tell someone how distraught she really was eventually, but today was not that day. She could pretend for a little longer.

“So you were saying, about Alec?” Clary re-directed the conversation to what Izzy had originally come to tell her. 

“Yeah. He’s late.” 

Clary checked her watch. It was 8.10am. Alec was usually the first one there, or amongst the first ones, since he and Izzy arrived together. He should have been here, drinking coffee after coffee, at least fifteen minutes ago. 

“That’s… unlike him,” the redhead agreed, taking another sip of the hot drink. The temperature was the only thing remotely interesting about it. She wondered briefly if there was even caffeine in it, it was so watered down. 

“He’s still staying at Bane’s. He volunteered to take over Jace’s turn, so Bane wouldn’t have to be around his shit.” 

“Are we talking about the same Alec? The guy who doesn’t believe in psychics and would rather not be around Bane ever?” Clary asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“He’s been… different lately. Weird, but not necessarily in a bad way. I’d say he’s more relaxed, but I’m well aware my brother isn’t capable of relaxation.” Izzy sighed, shaking her head. She worried about her brother sometimes. And she knew he didn’t worry about himself enough.

“I haven’t seen a huge difference, but I don’t know him like you do.” Clary hummed. 

They started walking back to their room, Clary focusing on her coffee and Izzy dragging her heels slightly. The precinct was relatively calm, as usual on a weekday morning. The silence stayed between the two of them as they settled back in their usual chairs. 

“So.” Clary threw her now empty cup of coffee into the open trash can, muttering a little ‘yus’ under her breath when the container fell right into it. “Wanna take bets on why Alec is not here yet?” 

Izzy chuckled and looked down. “Good shot,” she commented, before thinking about her question. “Well. Since you’re dating the best bartender in New York, I’d say… two rounds on whoever wins, for everyone.” 

“Deal.” Clary chuckled, before offering, “Option one: car accident.” 

Izzy winced but nodded. “Well. A car accident, or slipping in the shower would be the most likely reason he’s not yet here and not calling to warn. Unless… He’s stuck in a meeting with higher ups?” 

Clary chuckled. “That’s a good one. He wouldn’t be able to text us, and would still be late.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe he got tired of the fact Bane doesn’t own a coffee machine, and went up to Manhattan to get an espresso from that store on Madison Square that he loves.”

Izzy winced. “You got me there. Sounds like an Alec thing to do. Though I don’t think he would compromise punctuality for espresso.” 

Clary was opening her mouth to add another hypothesis, something about a wardrobe malfunction, when the door of the room opened on Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane. Bane was carrying a bag with him - probably supplies for doing his psychic thing at the crime scene. 

Alec looked… he looked still a bit asleep, and it was probably obvious that the espresso hypothesis was erroneous. He did look awake, but not fully. Enough to drive, enough to function, but not enough to be 100% accurate. 

Neither Izzy nor Clary had so much as a second to enquire why Alec was late, because he immediately got out his phone, and started talking. 

“As expected, new murder. We need to get there as soon as possible. Jace was called first, somehow, and he’s already on site. McGolrick Park, on Nassau Avenue,” he explained, looking down at his phone. “We need to get on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, and exit at McGuinness Boulevard.”

Izzy was the first on her feet, reaching for her holster and sliding it onto her belt. Clary followed shortly after, grabbing her jacket. Both women checked their shoelaces and grabbed the gear that wasn’t already in their cars. Some of the crime scene gear was left in there overnight, but more delicate materials, and the evidence bags were locked away to avoid fraud. 

When Izzy was done, she looked up at Alec. He wasn't looking at her. He was talking to the psychic, rather softly, and with a hand on the man’s shoulder. It wasn’t a big gesture, a hand on someone’s shoulder was hardly extreme intimacy, but it was something she hadn’t seen him do with people other than family in a long time. 

It was careful of Bane’s feelings, comforting almost, as if Alec really cared about how the psychic would deal with the crime scene. It was as if Alec believed in the abilities the man said he had. And it was surprising. 

“Go put the stuff in the fridge, they shouldn’t touch it,” Alec said, and Bane nodded before disappearing in the corridor. 

“What stuff?” Izzy asked, now that Magnus, the foreign element, was gone. 

Alec shrugged. “He made food for the two of us for lunch.”

Okay. That was very surprising. Something had changed between Alec and Bane, a subtle shift in their relationship, something that spoke of more understanding between the two of them. 

Izzy was still thinking about it as she drove towards the crime scene. 

Magnus Bane was quiet as Izzy drove them towards Greenpoint. It was the second time the killer had gone to this particular district of Brooklyn, and the media was starting to panic about how the latest murders could mean the killer had a favorite killing ground. It was understandable. 

Alec and Clary had taken the other car, since they had some things to discuss. Alec had made it clear it only concerned Clary, and as such, Izzy had left them alone. It probably wasn't bad. Clary’s work was exemplary, and she got along well with the rest of the team. Nothing to worry about. 

It left Magnus Bane in the car with her though, and that was awkward. They’d only talked once or twice, and never being alone in the same room. It was always with Alec around. And one of the last times, they’d talked had been just after Bane’s episode. 

“So, how is cohabitating with my brother?” she said to break the ice, as she turned towards the motorway. 

Bane looked up at her from where he’d been staring at his hands thoughtfully. “Alec is your brother?” he asked, sounding surprised.

She hadn’t thought the two of them were on first name basis, but then again, Alec had been more relaxed lately, and she was ready to bet it was thanks to the man next to her. 

“Yes. Isabelle Lightwood. And Alexander Lightwood. The Lightwood siblings.” 

“What are the odds of the two if you both working in the FBI and both being in the same squad?” Bane chuckled and Izzy smiled. 

“Well,” she started, “He’s two years older than me, so I followed his footsteps. And when he got into the ‘serial killer squad,’ I requested to be transferred in as well. I had good credentials so I was taken.” She explained. “We were both on the same rank when I started in this squad, but he got team leader when Hodge Starkweather, our boss, quit.” 

“So he’s your boss.”

“Yes. He is. It’s not always easy. But well, it’s still nice because we trust each other fully. And we share an apartment, so he makes sure I’m never late.” 

“Must be nice,” Bane mused, but didn’t say much else. 

Talking about her living arrangement with her brother made Izzy wonder again why had Alec and Bane been late this morning. It hadn’t been explained, and she really wanted to know if Clary was getting her drinks soon. 

“Speaking of being late… why were Alec and you late for duty this morning?” She had a small teasing smile on. She could tell Bane was starting to relax around her, which was very appreciated. 

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Your brother might kill me for this, but well…” He hummed for a second, looking at the houses they were passing before shrugging. “He slept past his alarm. I had to wake him up myself,” he explained. 

Magnus didn’t really want to talk about it much, it was rather personal, but the woman was curious, he could feel it, and she wouldn’t let it go until she had her answer. And it wasn’t as if he’d said how soft and young Alec Lightwood looked when he slept.

Magnus had spent a couple seconds just looking at him before he shook him awake this morning. The door had been unlocked, and Chairman had been snuggled against the agent’s back. 

Alec Lightwood was beautiful, Magnus had realized then, really beautiful. It was much easier to admit that he was starting to be into him, now that they had talked. Alec had apologized several times about the first night, and how callous he’d been. Magnus… Magnus had mostly forgiven him. Magnus still didn't completely trust him, but he was getting there, and though he knew the agent still didn't trust his psychic abilities, he thought - hoped - it wasn't really an obstacle between them anymore.

Alexander Lightwood. Alexander. It wasn’t surprising to learn that ‘Alec’ was a nickname. But both versions suited the man either way. Alec was the fast, efficient, maybe colder man, the FBI agent, with a sharp tongue and harsh consonants. Alexander was the guy who curiously peered at the tarot cards, and looked at the books on his bookshelves, who tasted tea from the very edge of his lips. 

“It’s not like him, to sleep past his alarm,” the woman commented, and it tore Magnus away from his thoughts. 

“From the face he made, and the curses that followed, I gathered.” Magnus chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I think sleeping some is good for him though. I do not pretend to know much of his sleep schedule, but he seems quite… exhausted, usually.”

“He is. And I’m surprised he’s feeling so… relaxed around you. No offense, but he’s really not the psychic-believer type.” 

Magnus hummed. “I gathered that. But you are, I believe. Isabelle Lightwood. I think my good friend Ragnor Fell has mentioned your name recently. I should have remembered you were Alec’s sister.” 

Isabelle nodded. “Yes. Ragnor Fell. I’d say we were friends, but I’m just one of his regular clients. He has a very… calming energy.”

Magnus had a small laugh. “Calming? My, my, it might just be the first time my dear Ragnor has ever been described as calming.” 

“Well. He does have a… complaining tendency, I suppose, but he usually isn’t complaining when he’s using reiki on me, so… all in all it’s a calming experience.” 

“Ragnor has some French blood in him, despite that heavily pronounced British accent of his. The complaining comes from that,” Magnus explained. 

Both Isabelle and he dissolved into chuckles. She got off the expressway, and started driving down the streets. 

She wondered for a moment how Clary was feeling about all of this. If she was still holding up. It was the second murder in the neighborhood she’d grown up in, and it wasn’t that far from where Maia and she resided. 

If someone was going after women her age, in the Upper East Side, Izzy would be a little afraid. Though, a lot of women her age in the Upper East Side were insufferable spoiled girls. Izzy wasn’t exactly from modest origin, the Lightwoods had been a very influential and wealthy families for a century, but she wasn’t living on her family fortune. 

Her relationship with her family was quite complicated. She still had ties, unlike Alec who only saw their parents for Christmas and Thanksgiving. Sometimes, he saw them for Easter as well, but it wasn’t really a common occurrence. Izzy didn’t really enjoy spending time with her parents, but she saw the good in maintaining those kinds of relationships. She could work with them as long as she wasn’t asked too often when she was getting married, and quitting her job. 

Every year was a little harder though. Between her father’s lack of respect for anything or anyone that disagreed with him, and her mother’s tendency to rely too heavily on wine to keep herself together, Izzy was only left with her little brother Max. Who was now 17 years old, and was starting to not let anyone walk all over him, let alone his parents. 

At every family gathering, the atmosphere only made Izzy wish that they could all go to church already - and then immediately regret it, as soon as the service started. It was narrow-minded to say the least, unlike the joyous congregation she now spent her Sunday mornings at. Her mother spent the service giving her pointed looks whenever they talked about marriage. 

The entire congregation would have a collective heart-attack if they knew Izzy was kinda-dating a man that was tattooed, pierced, Arabic, had long hair with dyed strands, regularly did drugs, and was as sexually-free as she was. 

Izzy was a little lost in her thoughts as she parked not far from the crime scene. She heard Bane take a deep breath. 

“Are you going to be okay?” 

He swallowed and shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see. I want to try.” 

Izzy simply nodded in reply. They both got out of the car, Magnus’ arms wrapped around himself, crossing protectively over his chest. He didn't want to know what it would be like. He was already starting to feel it, far away, like a distant cry. He was already regretting everything. 

They quickly walked into the park itself. It was strange how this time the body wasn’t in a small back alley, dark and not often passed through, but in the middle of a park in a rather populated area. The killer was escalating, growing bolder.

Alec was standing on the path, a few feet from the crime scene, and he turned to Magnus as he approached. Magnus smiled a little at the other man, even if he really wasn’t in a smiling mood. 

Each step brought the feelings closer. For now, they were still relatively alright; they were still far enough so that he could ignore them. He could feel the first few licks of pain and fear, the most intense emotions reaching with invisible arms and starting to pick at his defenses. He gulped. 

“Tell me the second you’ve got enough, and I will get you out of here.” Alec promised, in a rather reassuring tone. “Clary can take you back to your place, and write down everything you gathered.”

Magnus nodded and peered at the yellow tape that was guarding the entrance to a limestone pavillion, where he could sense the feelings coming from. He could see Herondale, and a redhead woman - Clary Fray if he remembered, busy with gathering evidence. 

Alec and Isabelle both walked towards the crime scene, and Magnus stayed back until they were done with their FBI work. After all, his expertise was only something accessory to the work they were doing. DNA searches, and microscopic analysis, and behavioral knowledge, and compiled victimology, that was what really mattered, not Magnus’ hypotheses, not the things he could feel. 

If he would even feel anything. He needed to try and push past the obvious ones, push past the pain, fear, and horror, and try to isolate the feelings of the murderer. And maybe even try to isolate the nuances in the victim’s feelings. Maybe recognition if she knew her attacker, which would facilitate the work of the team. 

Magnus was trying to stay logical, stay on the track of what he should be doing, rather than letting himself start to panic. He had survival instincts, and they were screaming at him to go home, go to bed, and forget everything. He couldn’t, though. People were counting on him. Lives might depend on what he could feel. He needed to push through. 

He needed to push through the trauma, the memories of the last times he’d been overwhelmed to such a degree that it had almost drove him insane. That day he’d lost his life, and then the days he’d been too vulnerable to fight back against those who would take advantage of his gift. What if this crime scene, this thing he was doing, would strip down the walls he’d built back up; what if it left him raw and exposed like the last time? 

He was lost in his thoughts, arms still held tightly around him, keeping his dark blue jacket closed, even with the slight heat of the end of June. The two women and Herondale had taken off their own jackets, staying in short-sleeved shirts. Alec was the only other one still covered in clothing. 

His name was called eventually, and Magnus looked up, knowing this was the moment he had been dreading since he’d offered his help. He walked closer to the body, each step adding pressure as the feelings weighed on him. 

The volume of the feelings kept going up, and up, and up, and he couldn’t see the end of the pain and the fear that swallowed him whole the second he slipped under the yellow tape. It was so intense it hurt, like someone was beating up his brain, taking him apart. He could feel everything at the same time, a cacophony of screams and loud brass instruments. 

It was too much. One step into the restricted zone, and he was already overwhelmed. He couldn’t do this. He was useless in this investigation, his abilities weren’t a gift, they were just a burden. 

He needed to push through, though. For all those people, and for himself.. He needed to do better for himself, for everyone around him. He had to focus. 

Unaware of the turmoil that agitated Magnus’ mind, Alec was standing by the psychic’s side, a concerned expression on his face. He didn’t believe in psychic abilities, but he knew the man was struggling with something. He could see the hyperventilation, and the pain written all over the man’s features, and the way he curled up on himself to protect himself from the world. 

Alec didn’t know what to do. He was powerless like this and he hated it. He just wanted to help the man, because that was what he did the best, solving problems and helping people, but he couldn’t. Whatever was happening with Magnus was not something he had power over. 

He didn’t believe in psychic abilities, in empathic abilities like the ones Magnus proclaimed to have. He didn’t believe in God, in things that were intangible. He believed in things like gravity, things that responded to mathematical equations, and this? This was out of his reach. 

He just wanted to do something, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, watching the man suffer. 

“Do you need to leave? It’s okay, you can leave,” Alec said softly, but firmly; making sure Magnus knew there was a way out and he could take it. 

“No.” 

It was the only reply. It was hoarse, but it was firm, a decision that Magnus was sure in, and Alec respected it, even if a part of him wanted to take control and drag him away from the pain and the anguish that he looked like he was experiencing. 

Magnus was trying very hard not to break apart. He really was. He was fighting through the torrents of pain, and fear, and horror, and the feeling of doom that came with realizing that death was certain, unavoidable, and imminent. It was trying to choke him, to take him down with the woman that lay there, morbidly peaceful. 

He pushed through, still. He let himself fall apart for a second, and then started searching for something else. He had a piercing headache, though, and he couldn’t use the crystals around his neck to channel everything and focus. There was too much emotions around him to be filtered into a crystal.

His ears were ringing, everything was thrashing, he could feel the pressure on his mind, and on his body as well. Headaches were usually the worst his body got from the feelings, but this particular one was on another level. There was so much pain. A stinging, piercing pain in his skull. 

But he could feel so many things. He could feel recognition. The victim had known the person that had attacked her. She’d known them, known them as a friend maybe, because there was a hint of betrayal on the back of Magnus’ tongue. 

He decided to search for the feelings of the murderer. And that was significantly harder. It was pushing back a lot of boundaries, pushing past limits he didn’t think he could push past. There was something wet on his face but he ignored it. 

There was a voice resounding in his ear but he felt far away. He felt like he was lost in a world of his own creation. A world where everything hurt. But everything made sense to him. He pushed through the overwhelming feelings of the victim and he felt someone take his hand. 

Maybe it changed something, or maybe it did not, and it was a plain coincidence, but that was the moment he caught it. The emotional signature of the murderer. And it was surprising to say the least. 

Magnus didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. The signature was not frantic. He felt some anger, but it didn’t feel like the anger was why the woman was dead. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t feel a motive. He could just feel… violence, maybe, but not the kind he expected. 

Instead, the signature was composed, even calm, and he could feel an undercurrent of expectation. And at least one thing was sure: there was always a sentiment of ‘love’ that permeated the air - or if not love, then care. The murderer cared for their victims until they realized something and got angry and killed them. It wasn’t bloody. It wasn’t vicious. It was caring - almost. 

Magnus didn’t know what to do with that. 

Suddenly, exhaustion fell on him like a weight. His knees buckled, and he was pulled out of the trance-like state he’d been in for the last few minutes. He could feel his hands again, and the thick curtain that had seemed to separate him from sensations was gone. The pain was more intense, the sounds around him making everything much worse. 

His eyes focused finally on the face of the person that was holding him up. Alec. He was by his side, one arm around his shoulders and the other holding his hand, trying to keep him upright, a look of intense worry on his face. 

“Magnus, are you okay?” The agent’s words were spoken softly, but distress was clear in his voice. 

“I’m fine.” 

Magnus’ voice worked. That was surprising, but very much appreciated. 

“You’re _bleeding_.” The distress was still there, as well as some kind of frustration, as if Alec couldn’t believe that Magnus was denying being hurt.

Magnus didn’t feel anything bleeding. But then again, his perceptions were hazy. There were still the feelings of the victim and the murderer, and now he was also aware of the entire team’s worry. Magnus closed his eyes and leaned a little against the agent again. It was comforting like this. 

“Magnus? Your nose.” It was Isabelle’s voice this time. She was closer than he’d expected. Fuck, he was… he was not in his right mind. 

He lifted his hand up and managed to swipe his fingers under his nose, and yes, there was something wet there. When he pulled his fingers back and looked at his hand, they were red. Red because of blood. His nose was bleeding. 

He blinked. 

He’d never had such a physical reaction before. But then again, he’d never used his abilities that much. He’d mostly been a victim of them, an unwilling passenger carried along rather than using them actively. It was interesting, what happened when he managed to really push through and try to feel specific things. He’d never really applied his abilities like this before. 

“You need to go home. I’ll go with you.” There was no room for hesitation in Alec’s voice, and he pulled Magnus up by the waist so he would stand. 

Magnus’ legs weren’t really working that well. The redhead agent who was supposed to come with him later didn’t say a word, despite being robbed of Magnus’ wonderful company. She should be rioting by now. 

Magnus barely reacted when his vision line shifted. His feet weren’t touching the floor anymore. How peculiar. He looked back at where Alec had been, and he was still there, and he was still holding Magnus and… oh. Carrying him. That was unexpected. Magnus wasn’t light. 

“We’ll wrap this up,” Izzy said and smiled. “We’ll meet you back at the precinct later. Take your time.” Her voice was light and teasing as she looked at the way her brother was carrying the psychic. 

There was something between the two; she could feel it from there. She wouldn’t say anything; it wasn’t her place to do so, but Alec could have very well just helped the man get up and helped him walk to the car, instead of going full out and carrying him bridal style. Bane didn’t look unhappy about that development. He seemed a little loopy though, so maybe the way he was snuggling against Alec’s chest wasn’t much of an indication of anything. 

Alec carried the man from the pavillion to where his car was parked. Magnus was rather heavy, but it wasn’t bad. He wouldn’t be able walk a mile like this, but two hundred yards were fine. Maybe. He hoped he wouldn’t collapse. 

He didn’t want Bane - Magnus - to get hurt. Not when he was this... _good_. Alec didn’t want another innocent on the lists of people hurt because of his case. Because of his job. It had been hard to see Magnus as someone that wasn’t a suspect but… he just wasn’t. 

Alec had lived with Magnus for nearly a month now. More than three weeks. And it was… good. It was peaceful, even enjoyable at times. And the man was obviously not a killer. He freed bees that got into his apartment by mistake, for pity’s sake. 

And now, he was curled up in Alec’s arms, after going through some kind of mental torture that had resulted in a nosebleed and him being so incredibly loopy. 

Alec sighed in relief when he finally arrived at his car. He unlocked it and managed to open the door of the passenger seat, sliding Magnus into it. Okay, he was maybe a little too heavy to carry quite that far. 

“Gonna get you home. But I need what you… what you saw,” Alec muttered. It was almost meant more for himself than for Magnus. 

Magnus nodded, and put on his seat belt. He was getting back to normal. Alec slipped into the driver’s seat, and soon, they were back on the road, driving to Magnus’ apartment. 

“You gave us one hell of a scare out there,” he started, looking at the road, a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. 

He shot a look at the man by his side when he didn’t get an answer. Magnus was staring at the streets they drove past, something deep and lost in his gaze. Alec didn’t know what to do. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he tried again. He was not good with this kind of conversation, with the caring and the being-careful-of-people’s-feelings. This was so frustrating. He didn’t know what the man would find reassuring. Maybe he didn’t even need reassurance. Maybe he was hurt more than it seemed and needed reassurance. He could even be unable to communicate how hurt he really was. 

Alec needed to keep himself from spiralling, but he didn’t know how. Thankfully, Magnus decided to speak right as Alec was about to descend into panic. 

“The murderer…” he began. “They were… calm. They didn’t hate the victim, they weren’t angry, they weren’t searching for revenge. It was strange. It wasn’t what I was expecting.” 

His voice had a dream-like quality. It was a little cold and distant, and Alec started worrying about more than just the shock of the… thing he’d done. Maybe he was hurt, more than psychologically. After all, there had been blood. 

“We need to get you to a hospital.” 

“No. Please,” Magnus whispered and shook his head. He hated hospitals. The smells, the feelings, the pain, everything. He didn’t want to go back into this kind of place. “You can call Catarina. Catarina Loss. She’s a friend of mine.”

“The nurse. Yes. I interrogated her. She has good credentials.” 

That wasn’t how people talked. He was bad at this. Alec just wanted to arrive already. And get some tea. And get Magnus in a blanket, and make sure he was safe, and alright. And God, he needed to stop thinking like this, he was a professional. 

“I’m okay. I’m tired. But okay. Relax, Alexander.” 

Alec blinked and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Alexander? I… I didn’t know I had told you my full name,” he muttered, a bit incredulous. 

“Your sister… She let it slip,” Magnus admitted. There was a small smile on his lips. Alec liked that. It meant it was a good conversation. Magnus was relaxing. He was okay. “I didn’t ask… Do you mind if I call you Alexander?” 

Alec would have minded. To anyone else, he would have said no. He would have shut them down. He would have asked them to call him Special Agent Lightwood, or Lightwood. But there was something he liked about how Magnus said his name. It wasn’t like his parents had done, full of contempt. Or like his teachers had done, full of frustration. It was different. Good different. 

“I don’t. Feel free to call me Alexander, Magnus.”


	9. IX: The Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Fertility, femininity, beauty, nature, abundance  
> Reversed: Creative block, dependence on others
> 
> The Empress shows a deep connection with our femininity. Femininity translates in many ways – beauty, sensuality, fertility, creative expression, nurturing – and is necessary in creating balance in both men and women. The Empress calls on you to connect with your feminine energy. Create beauty in your life. 
> 
> On a metaphorical level, the Empress may represent the birth of a new idea, a product, or a new way of being. New ideas and projects will be implemented resulting in the success of all your projects and interests. Bring forth those ideas that have been growing and developing inside of you.
> 
> More broadly, the Empress encourages you to connect with others by nurturing, caring and supporting those around you. Find ways to support dialogue and open communication, creating a space to openly express your feelings.  
> We create abundance and radiance in our lives. Take a moment to reflect on the love that surrounds you and build on this energy to create even more abundant love in your life. Know that love is limitless.

It was Catarina Loss-Rollins’ lunch break, and she hadn’t planned to spend it rushing towards her best friend’s house. It had been a normal morning at the ER, until her phone had rung, the name on the screen indicating it was Magnus who was trying to contact her. 

It hadn’t been Magnus exactly, but it had been about him. And she’d rushed out the second her lunch break started, catching subway after subway, and finally getting to her friend’s apartment. 

The FBI agent who’d told her to come had been vague on what had actually happened to Magnus, but it was enough for her to come. She knew Magnus hated hospitals with a passion, and she also knew that he would not call her and bother her in the middle of her day without reason. 

She walked up to the door of Magnus’ apartment and rang the bell. There were hurried footsteps behind the door, before it opened, a few seconds after her ringing. It wasn’t Magnus, letting her in, she realized when she stepped forward and the man closed the door behind her, locking it shut. 

It was the FBI agent. Alec Lightwood. She pursed her lips and gave him a once-over. He looked a bit worried, and there were a few splatters of blood on his white shirt. An alarm bell immediately rang in her mind. 

“What happened?” she said coldly, not even trying to hide the accusatory undertone of her voice. 

It could have been a shootout, Magnus could have tripped and fell and split open his head on something. Blood was never good. 

The man held up his hands, almost taking a step back, eager to show how inoffensive he was. Catarina still didn’t really know what to think of him.The last time she’d talked to him, he’d been raging like a dog who was forced to let go of a bone. And now, he was very much concerned. 

“We took him to the crime scene, and… he got a nosebleed when he was around it. He looked like he was in pain. I… I just want you to check on him. He seemed in shock.” 

Catarina would have to tell Magnus ‘I told you so’ the next time they saw each other in a normal situation. They’d all known he would get hurt. He himself had known that, and yet, in his usual fashion, he was sacrificing his well being for others. It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Where is he now?” 

“He’s taking a shower. He said he needed it.” 

Catarina hummed. She could indeed hear the shower running in the other room. Chairman was sitting in front of Magnus’ bedroom door, regularly looking back and forth between the door and the two humans in the main room. 

Under the shower, Magnus was unaware Catarina had arrived, and unaware of the time he was spending under the water. He’d made a beeline for the bathroom the second he’d walked in, the feeling that he had to wash everything off even stronger than the relief to be home. 

He sat on the tiled floor of his shower, letting the water run over him. His makeup was entirely ruined, his hair drenched and plastered against his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He’d spent the beginning of his shower scrubbing everything off, but now, he was just there. 

The pain of the headache was more diffuse than blunt, and it was like a constant, dull pressure. It was a pretty usual kind of headache, at least for him. 

He was still a bit shocked by everything that had happened. Everything he had felt. His body was sore, his mind was hurting, everything felt strange and overwhelming. He just wanted to wrap himself in a protective layer and stay home, in his bed, curled up with Chairman forever. Or stay in the shower until he ran out of hot water. 

The water falling on him was forming a protective layer of sound, and touch, and he liked the feeling of being underwater that came with the spray falling over his ears. Everything was duller, almost buffered. He wished it could be this comfortable forever. 

So here he stayed. Naked skin against cold white tiles, until he could feel the tiles warming up to his body temperature and the temperature of the water. He didn’t know why he’d let himself get into this mess. He’d caused this. He’d pushed himself until his nose had bled. 

He brought up his fingers, and checked the wetness he felt under his nose. It was just water, clear and clean. The blood was gone. He was back home, he was safe and he was okay, in a bathroom that was only filled with his own signature, in a protected space he could relax into. 

The sound of water hitting the tiles created a white noise cocoon around him, and he could stop spiralling, stop hurting and just relax into the comfortable uniformity, eyes still closed. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed under the water, but eventually the hot water ran out, and he started shivering. He didn’t want to leave the protection of the bathroom, but he had to, or he would risk hypothermia. His body had gone through enough already for the day. 

He winced as he stood up, tired and aching, and turned off the water. Drying himself off and putting clothes back on were rather automatic motions and he didn’t think about it much, staring into the void. He could hear voices from the living room, but they were not loud enough that he could distinguish who was talking. 

He didn’t want to see people. Just Chairman. And his bed. But he grabbed some slippers and put them on, rubbed his hair with a towel to get some of the water out, be at least slightly presentable. 

He shot a longing glance at his bed when he walked past it, but walked through the door, and into the living room. Alec was sitting on the couch next to Chairman, and Catarina was in the kitchen. They both looked up as he walked in, but waited for him to talk. Magnus didn’t want to talk. He’d told Alec all about the murderer in the car on the way home, and he was just tired. 

He sat up on the couch, but far from the other man, and Chairman moved to lay down next to him, against his leg. The corners of Magnus' mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile and he petted the cat's head softly. He just looked at the cat for a moment, scratching at his neck, fingers buried in the fluffy gray and white fur. Chairman was round, and soft, and fluffy, and he just wanted to curl up around him and sleep forever. Being a cat seemed nice. All the petting, the food and napping. 

He thought about the benefits of being a cat for a little more, until a tray was put down on the coffee table. His favorite teapot, a cast iron one with a dark purple wash over the patterns, was smoking from the hot water of a nice tea, and a small teacup with its matching saucer was waiting for tea to be poured into it. Tea was nice. 

Catarina brought a stool next to the table and sat down, so she wouldn’t be too close to Magnus. She knew how he felt when he was like this. He didn’t want more stimulus from being touched. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” It seemed he was always tired these days. Every time he saw Cat, he said the same thing. He was tired. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to sleep, and paint his tarot cards for hours, until the headache and the spiralling stopped. He’d put on his reading glasses even, so he wouldn’t feel like his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets. 

“You know the drill, we have to go through it again,” Catarina pointed out. 

Magnus sighed heavily. He disliked the whole examination phase. He knew why Catarina insisted on going through it every time something happened, but he still was annoyed by it. It was a bit tedious, even if she often stuck to an abbreviated version. 

“Let’s do this,” Magnus muttered, crossing his legs onto the couch and reaching for his cat. At least he had the ‘motor’ part of the Glasgow Scale done already. 

“Can you tell me your name, where you are, and the date please?” 

“Magnus Bane, we’re at my apartment, and it’s the 24th of June, 2017.” He provided her with the information, reaching to brush a hand through his hair. 

“What kind of tea did I get you?” Catarina asked. 

“Jasmine green tea,” he replied, complying with her questions on his senses, and the regular prodding on his extremities. 

Alec observed them as the nurse went through a complete neurological check-up on her friend. He felt a bit like he was intruding, but Magnus wasn’t showing any sign of wanting him gone. It was interesting, really. 

The psychic just sat there, bored out of his mind, seemingly. Alec wondered how often this happened. How often did the man get himself in traumatic situations? The entire check-up was something the psychics seemed to be used to, and it made Alec worried. 

Eventually, when it started being clear that they weren’t going to talk to him any time soon, wrapped up in their little neurological examination, Alec stood up and excused himself, deciding he was needed back at the precinct. 

He wasn’t close to understanding Magnus Bane and his world, he thought as he slid into the driver’s seat of the black Chevrolet Suburban, the standard-issue fleet SUV. Maybe if he spent longer around him, he could start to comprehend, but… he doubted he would ever get to the level of understanding he wanted. 

He wanted the evidence. He wanted… medical records, and examinations, and stats, and numbers that showed that what he said he felt was true. Alec couldn’t understand it otherwise. Everything had a cause. He couldn’t accept that something as big as empathic abilities came out of nowhere. 

He pulled out of the parking stop, and started the - now familiar - drive to the precinct. 

\-----

Izzy stretched out her arms as she walked back into HQ at the precinct. Now that the samples were at the lab and the body at the morgue, they didn’t have much to do when it came to the victim’s identity. 

They needed to go through security camera footage from the streets surrounding the McGolrick Park. Going through security footage was by far her least favorite part of the investigation. It was long, it was tedious, and it often gave them no new evidence. Considering the rare occasions where it did help them, they still had to do it. 

She knew she wouldn’t manage to get out of it this time. She’d managed to get Jace to take over on the nightclub’s tapes, and he would not forget it. The tapes from the club had only given them a hoodie, and some blonde hair, which was far from being enough. 

They could only conclude that the murderer had blond hair, or maybe had had blonde hair, or had worn a blonde wig. 

They were all getting frustrated. This was the worst case Izzy had ever been on. It was by far the longest they’d ever been without managing to catch a killer. She almost wished Bane had been the right suspect. He would have been a monster, and wouldn’t have unlocked that caring edge of Alec’s, but it would have been over.

She sat down and started going through the forms she needed to pull the tapes. It was never easy. There were forms to fill out, and people to ask, and asking questions sometimes uncovered other illegal activities which often lead to… more paperwork. But it was Alec’s job to deal with the worst part of the paperwork, with the reports, and everything. 

“There’s a bag with sandwiches in the fridge, you guys know whose it is?” Jace said, walking into the room with said bag in his hands. He was obviously coveting the food inside of it. 

“That’s Alec’s. There was supposed to be Magnus’ lunch as well, but since he went back home, there’s probably an extra sandwich,” Clary called out from her desk, where she was going over the recent missing person declarations that had been filed in the neighborhood, trying to find one that would match the victim’s description. 

White, in her early twenties, with strawberry blonde hair. She was around five and a half feet tall. She’d been wearing jeans, and a flowery blouse, and both her shoes, heeled boots, had been found at the scene. There was no wallet or anything that could give her identity - taking any identification seemed to be part of the killer’s MO. 

It was a nice blouse. Dark red with green and orange flowers, embroidered into the cotton fabric. Clary briefly wondered where she’d gotten it. 

It was strange. Her reaction to dead bodies was changing. She was still horrified, but now, her thoughts easily wandered to appreciating the clothes the victim was wearing. It was… a bit scary, how it had become less important. 

She worried about her own behavior, and her mood recently. Not that she was becoming an emotionless robot, but the opposite. She was too stressed out. The pressure of this case was putting a strain on her and she was worried that Maia was going to suffer from this pressure cooker Clary was in. 

Clary would never hurt her girlfriend, not in a million years. She wasn’t like Maia’s ex, and she wasn’t like any of the asshole guys or girls they were around. She would never intentionally do anything to hurt her, but she was still afraid that this case, or this job, could put a strain on their relationship. 

She didn’t want to become like Alec. 

Alec was cold, and it seemed like he cared about very few people. He was emotionless most of the time, stuck in a loop of working case after case. He lived and breathed work. Clary didn’t want to wake up one day and forget she had a life outside of work, forget she had Maia, and her friends, and her family. 

What if it had been this job that had made him this way, and not something else in his life? What if she was going to become like this someday? Though Izzy was in no way showing the same detachment as her brother, despite having been in the job for almost as long, Clary still wondered, and worried. 

Maia was the best thing in her life, and she never wanted to forget that. She never wanted to think about cases before she thought about her when she woke up in the morning. She never wanted to call her every night to tell her she couldn’t come home before Maia had to leave. Or worse, at all. 

She didn’t want the loneliness, and the fear of going home that she sometimes felt in Alec’s voice when they spent the night in a car on a stakeout. On those nights, she would usually be texting Maia nonstop, and he would be... going over files.

Alec was alone, and Clary vowed to never become that way, as she closed the missing person declarations file. She had found nothing that could help them in any of the records. 

She was just done thinking about her boss’ life when the man walked through the door of the room. He looked a little out of it, but quickly asked for a briefing on what they had for now. Which was… not much. 

The missing persons reports had nothing that looked like their victim. Prints had come back negative, so the victim didn’t have a file, and they were still waiting for the autopsy results. Izzy was going through the forms needed to get the tapes that none of them expected to yield any information. They were all hoping Bane would have gotten something out of the crime scene. 

 

“Magnus couldn’t get very much, except that the victim knew her aggressor. And said aggressor’s motive doesn’t seem to be anger or pain. So I guess we can cross out revenge. He also mentioned that they seemed to care about their victim in a way.” 

“So someone she knew, and he cared for her?” Jace repeated, munching on the sandwich that would have been Magnus’. 

Alec noticed the bag in his hands but said nothing. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, or for one of Jace’s remarks. He’d probably say Magnus was his housewife now. Alec couldn’t wait for the guy to be fired. Or… at least to change squads. 

“Yeah. That’s it. We need… We need to find out who she is. And I’ll need Clary to go and warn the family. Sorry, Fray, it’s your turn.” 

Clary nodded. Alec knew she disliked the talking to families as much as everyone else. But they all went through this. He awkwardly patted her shoulder before standing up. 

Izzy sighed, looking back at the paused tapes on her computer screen for a moment. “So. Blonde. White, right?” 

Alec nodded. “White. Blonde. We have no age frame. Looks around… six feet tall.” 

“We have nothing. He could be anyone,” Jace huffed, mouth full of food. 

“Well, let’s not assume the killer’s a man,” Clary muttered as she turned away from Jace and faced Izzy. Both women looked at each other with an exasperated look but said nothing else. 

Jace thankfully decided not to push it today. Izzy thanked God for a quick second. She didn’t want a repeat of the last time they had that kind of conversation, which had almost ended in a homicide. 

“Let’s get to work,” Alec cut off their distraction. “I want anyone who isn’t busy to help Iz with the tapes.” 

And they all went to work. 

While her girlfriend was starting the investigation on their new victim, Maia Roberts was walking out of the Synagogue. It was Saturday, and like almost every Saturday, she’d attended the Shabbat morning service. 

Maia’s faith had always been fluctuant. Her belief in G-d was just as fluid, and some days she believed with all her heart and some days, she didn’t. Recently, with the pressure and the fear from the case Clary was working… her belief was on the ‘doubtful’ end of the spectrum. 

She’d never entirely forsaken her faith, nor had she ever entirely forsaken G-d, even after everything she’d been through. Even after her family had kicked her out, and she’d believed she wasn’t worth a penny, she’d still had her faith. Even after her boyfriend had turned monstrous and assaulted her, she’d still had her faith. 

She walked out into the Manhattan street, taking off the headscarf that she kept loosely draped over her hair for services and sighing softly. The energy that came out of the congregation building always made her feel just slightly more serene. Like-minded people, in a place that would always accept her. 

Her life was good, she realized every day, every morning she got to kiss her girlfriend as they woke up, every morning they ate breakfast together, one of them sitting on the counter and the other not. With their own mugs, and sharing clothes, and sharing a life. 

Clary was the best thing in her life, and Maia thanked G-d every day for putting her in her path. She couldn’t dream of anyone she would rather have to share the bad and good of her days. 

Clary had been raised Protestant, as had been her friends and colleagues, Izzy, Alec and Jace. As had also been raised Luke, the man that was a father to Clary and a support to Maia, who had adopted Maia into his family from the second Clary had introduced them. 

The first few weeks after they’d moved in together, understanding and working with each other’s cultures had been hard, but Clary was not practicing, and she had no problem with Maia’s religion. She had more genuine curiosity than ill-meaning questioning. 

Now that they both knew they would get married eventually, talking about faith, and religion, and religious weddings, was going to be on the table. 

Maia didn’t really have an opinion on what kind of wedding she wanted to have. Maybe a religious one could be good. She knew her rabbi would be very happy with officiating the wedding. She attended a non denominational synagogue and her rabbi was the most badass woman she’d ever met. It was also pro-LGBTQ+. 

She walked towards her usual bagel place, Bagel Maven Cafe, where she hoped her friend Simon would have arrived already. He usually attended the friday service, but they had the same synagogue. They’d met the one time Simon’s ex-girlfriend Maureen had convinced him to attend the First-Saturday-of-The-Month Yoga Shabbat service.   
Simon, and his awkwardness and lack of physical coordination, had been adorable. Maia and him had struck a friendship. And now, every Saturday, around lunch time, they met for bagels, or more, at the café around the block. 

She walked through the door and went to get her order, looking around the room as they prepared her bagel, her salad and her coffee. Simon was nowhere to be seen but their favorite spot was usually in the dining room upstairs. 

“This is the face of a tired man,” she called out when she finally found him, at their usual spot upstairs. He was threatening to faceplant into his own brunch. 

“Shalom to you too, Maia.” The man answered, smiling up at her as she sat down. He did look tired, dark circles behind his glasses, and hair all disheveled. 

“You didn’t have to come here if you were this tired. I’d get it if you slept in.” 

Simon shrugged. “I had to be up early for work. Been planting bugs and monitoring surveillance all over town these days. And with a gig last night…” 

Rock Solid Panda, Simon’s band, was an indie rock wonder which struggled to make a name for itself in the overcrowded scene of New York. Their music was great though, and Simon never refused a gig, even if he ended up sleeping three hours to go to work after. 

“You’re probably working on Clary’s new case…”

“Brooklyn’s new serial killer? I’ve been doing tech on it, yeah.” Simon nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Nothing much, just surveilling the person of interest’s home. Everything’s fine.” He explained. 

Maia toyed with the straw of her iced coffee for a moment, before she sighed. 

“I can see the case is eating Clary up,” she muttered, hoping Simon would be able to give her some guidance. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell her everything’s fine, because it is not.” She explained. “We both know it is not.” 

The man chewed on the food he had in his mouth before answering. “I’ve never really been in that situation. I’m not a special agent, like Clary. But… being confronted to all the horrors of humanity might make you feel… like everything around you is evil.”

Maia could see that. She could see that, being so often surrounded by the worst, you could start to think no one was truly good. She’d been through such a phase herself after Jordan and the things he’d done. She’d thought there was no use in trying to find someone to love, if the only thing you got out of it was pain. 

She’d been young and passionate, and too ready to trust, despite the warnings. She’d dreamt of fairytale romances, and a tall strong man, or woman, who would sweep her off her feet. She’d been seventeen, he’d been three years older, they’d started living together while she was still in high school, and everything had been perfect. 

Until she’d told him she was bi. There had been signs beforehand, signs that he wasn’t as sweet as he pretended to be, but she had missed them. Suddenly, she wasn’t allowed outside their apartment without someone he trusted with her. Suddenly, she wasn’t allowed to have a password on her phone. 

For a couple of months, her world had been lonely and dark, and she’d felt like a prisoner in her own home. And then she’d realized it had always been some kind of cage. And one day, she’d managed to leave. Not without him trying to keep her there, not without a fight, but she’d made it out.

She’d sworn off men forever, and sworn off love forever, because if that was what love was going to get her, than she didn’t want it. 

Maia had been single for almost three years after that, until she’d met Clary, that day at the gym. It had taken her time to give her heart again, two months to accept to go on a date, and almost a year before she’d said ‘I love you’. 

She needed to remind Clary that the world wasn’t full of evil things. The world was full of people; good and bad, of puppies and kittens, and strawberry ice cream. The world was full of so much more than just pain and horror. It was beautiful. 

“I just want her to know she’s safe. And that the world isn’t that bad.” She muttered, and Simon nodded. 

They quickly changed the subject of conversation to the soon-to-come pride parade their congregation would go to, and to their preparations for it. Maia had her bisexual flag, and bisexual-themed makeup and clothing ready, and had even prepared a lesbian version for Clary. 

She was kinda looking forward to dance around with her girlfriend and party, in the sun and in the daylight, to jump around and shake their hips in rhythm to whatever song was playing from the nearest float. 

The year before, Clary had been wearing very short high-waisted jean shorts, with a tank top with a cheesy lesbian pun on it and over-the-knee rainbow socks. They’d drank and danced and made out like teenagers in the street, before finishing everything back home. 

She knew her girlfriend might not want to attend this year, with what was happening, but in case she wanted to, everything was ready for her. With or without Clary, Maia was planning to go and party, and Simon would join her with his pansexual flag. 

Maybe Maia could manage to enlist Izzy in the festivities, so Clary wouldn’t feel guilty about not working for the day. And who knew, maybe even Alec would join them. She didn’t have much hope about the eldest agent, but well… 

She’d never seen the other man have fun. When he occasionally got a drink with the rest of his squad, he never really looked like he was enjoying himself. His smile was always tight-lipped, or forced. Maia had first found it a little rude, but, talking more about it with Clary had taught her the man just… seemed to be unable to relax. It would be fun to see him in rainbow-patterned things, in a place such as a pride parade. 

Maia left Simon eventually, finishing her coffee and throwing it in the trash before walking out of the shop. She loved the atmosphere the city had around pride time. It made her feel so welcome when she saw little rainbow flags everywhere. 

She rushed down the stairs of the subway and walked to the platform of the R train, taking it to go back to Brooklyn, to go back home. As usual, she avoided eye contact with anyone she didn’t know, especially men. 

Even if she repeated that most people were good, sometimes it was hard to keep herself from being suspicious, most of the time.


	10. X: The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Control, willpower, success, action, determination.  
> Reversed: Self-discipline, opposition, lack of direction.
> 
> The Chariot calls in you to assert yourself and be bold. Be confident in expressing your desires and laying down your boundaries; otherwise, you will not get your way. You need to have faith in yourself and know fundamentally who you are and what you stand for.
> 
> Similarly, the Chariot reversed may suggest that you may be trying to control every minute detail in your life – but in doing so, you feel even more out of control as a result. Loosen your grip and let things run their course. Be open to offers of help; and then be grateful for what you receive, even if it’s not perfectly aligned to your expectations. You do not always have to be in the driver’s seat!

Luke Garroway parked in front of the house of the victim’s parents. Henry and Marilyn Stevens lived in a residential area of Brooklyn. He sighed as he killed the engine of the SUV and turned to Clary, who was sitting by his side. There was something closed off about her eyes, about the way she looked at the house they had stopped at. 

Announcing deaths was never easy. No matter how much you trained, or how many seminars you attended afterwards, it never prepared you for actually knocking on the door of a family, whether they expected it or not, and telling them their loved one was gone. 

Sometimes, Luke wondered if Lightwood wasn’t intentionally cruel when he sent Clary to do it. Though his daughter’s boss didn’t seem like the type to be mean on purpose, sending someone so young do something like that… Luke had asked the other man once. Lightwood had simply told him that one had to learn someday. 

Emily Stevens had been an art student at the Brooklyn Academy of Art. The one Clary would have attended, if she hadn’t decided to get into the FBI Academy. That coincidence, along with the fact that Clary and the victim shared some physical traits, made her uncomfortable. 

The more this case went on, the more she felt like she couldn’t leave her apartment without taking risks. She could feel herself becoming paranoid. And it scared her. 

Clary smoothed her palm over her skirt. It was a simple navy skirt that she wore only for more official FBI business. Ceremonies or death notifications. She didn’t want to go there. But going and telling them was the right thing to do. 

Luke patted her shoulder. “You’re ready?” 

“Are we ever ready for this?” Clary replied. She stopped staring at the mailbox,looking back at the man next to her. 

“We aren’t. And they aren’t either. But the least we can do is tell them, before they learn on the news,” Luke replied, taking off his seatbelt. 

Clary nodded, pensively. She swallowed. “I… I just wish it didn’t have to be that way. I wish this girl wasn’t dead.” 

Luke couldn’t really reply to that. Everyone always wished people didn’t die, but death was a part of life. Yes, Emily Stevens’ death had been violent and terrible, but it was done now. There was no going back. 

“We all wish we didn’t have to do this,” Luke said gently. “Telling the families. But it’s part of our duties.” 

“I can’t help but… She’s like me. She’s my age, she went to BAA, she has… red-ish hair, and she’s just… so much like me,” Clary replied. “What if it was you, there in this house? What if it was Maia? Or even Jocelyn?” 

“Well…” The man started to speak, then paused, trying to find words to express what he was feeling. If someone ever came to tell him Clary was dead, he would… He didn’t even know what it would do but it would break his heart into a million pieces, never to be put back together again. If the Lightwoods ever came up to his doorstep telling him that she was gone, he would die a little. “I would want someone to tell me. I would want someone to be there.” 

Clary reached for Luke’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “It won’t happen.” 

They stayed in silence for a second, almost in prayer, hoping that it was true and that they wouldn’t ever have to go through what this family would go through. But time was ticking, and they had to go. Clary slid out of the car. Her skirt was uncomfortable. Her shoes a bit too tight. 

They walked to the front door, taking out their IDs already. They rang the doorbell. Luke looked over at her, and Clary felt like she was going to puke. The door opened. 

The woman had a beautiful smile. It faded the second she saw their IDs. The woman let them in. Clary hated that she had to do this. She walked into the house anyway. Her blazer was too thick, she was burning up. 

The family, two parents and a little brother, sat in the living room. Luke and Clary walked into the room, and looked at them. The words died in Clary’s throat before she could say them. She had to be professional, damnit, she couldn’t just freeze like that, make their pain worse. 

Luke took over when he saw how pale Clary was. It wasn’t the first time they did this, but still, this time was too much for her. It was understandable. There were too many things that hit close to home in this one. 

“We regret to inform you, that your daughter, Emily Stevens, is dead.” 

Clary shuddered at the noise that came out of the woman’s lips. The distress and anguish in it shook something inside her, down to her core, made her wish she could just run out and throw up already. It was too much. And yet, it was perfectly normal. It was what she had been expecting. 

“She was found in McGolrick Park, in Brooklyn, early this morning. We suspect she was the victim of the Brooklyn Killer,” Clary added. Her own voice sounded distant to her ears. It was unreal; all of this. 

It all happened in a blur, the rest of the notification procedure. Clary barely realized what she was saying, words coming out of her mouth in a near automatic way. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying the words that had haunted her since she’d learned of the victim’s identity. “It could have been me,” the phrase echoed in her mind, over and over in some kind of downward spiral of paranoia. 

They walked out of the house soon after, Clary a few steps behind Luke. He seemed to be doing better than her, but maybe the older man was just harder to read. He patted her shoulder gently as they went back to the car. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she lied, and she knew that he was aware it was a lie. She was grateful that he didn’t press the issue. Luke knew what was going on in her head. “I just want to go home,” she muttered. 

Luke nodded. They buckled themselves in and he started the engine. He drove her back home in silence. Only the radio was playing, some comedy show on a comedy channel, nothing too heavy. He’d initially thought about putting on the news, but they would surely be talking about the killer again. 

Maia would take care of Clary. He knew it and he trusted in it, and as long as Clary had people to keep her together, to help her get through everything she felt and every fear she had now that the world revealed itself to be a terrifying place, then she would be okay. 

Jocelyn had held that role for him, back when he'd been young and new to the horrors of police work. Now, they'd both changed. She no longer comforted him after hard days, but he was no longer as naive and tender as he had been. Jocelyn was alone and bitter and growing more and more so by the week. He was tired and jaded, but he had managed to hang onto some hope, because of the people around him. 

He knew Clary could get through this alright. He just hoped she wouldn’t follow in Alec Lightwood’s footsteps and push away those who could help her. 

Clary barely said goodbye when she got out of the car, in front of her apartment building. She waved briefly at Luke, with a smile that was only halfway there, and hurried into the lobby. She hated those shoes and their uncomfortable heels, she hated this skirt that was too tight and too low and not flattering in any way. She just wanted to take those stupid clothes off and curl up in bed forever. Until people stopped being so horrible. 

The door closed behind her, and she locked it immediately, sighing in relief. Home. Home was safe and okay and she could make coffee or hot chocolate and just relax. She knew she wouldn’t be called back to the precinct today. It was how they worked. Whoever did the death notification had the rest of the day off. The only circumstance under which she could be called back to work was if there was an emergency. 

She kicked off her shoes, unceremoniously chucking them to the side. They crashed into a pile of other shoes and bags. Clary huffed and took off her blazer as well. 

The noise resounded through the apartment and Maia came walking into the room, raising an eyebrow as she saw Clary there. She didn’t need to ask why she was home this early. The clothes were enough.

Maia walked to her, reaching out to gently take her hand. Hugging her right now would only make everything worse. She knew how Clary got when she was in this… state. Death notifications never went well. Often it was bad. Feelings were always involved whether you liked them or not. It always left Clary depressed, in need of comfort. Sometimes, she cried. Sometimes, it went so badly that Clary had a breakdown. This time, it was the latest. She brought Clary’s hand to her lips to kiss it. 

Maia hadn’t been back home for long. After her brunch with Simon, she’d decided to walk back instead of taking the subway. It had taken her longer, but she’d arrived maybe fifteen minutes before Clary. 

She wordlessly pulled her to the bedroom to grab a hoodie and some yoga pants. The apartment was quiet. Clary looked like she was close to tears. Maia stopped in front of her and gently started unbuttoning the white shirt she was wearing. These clothes were so unlike her. 

“Are you okay?” Maia asked, her eyes on Clary’s face, watching intently. She pulled the shirt out of the waist of the skirt and helped pull it off of her. 

Clary shrugged, partly to get the shirt off of her body, and partly to express her lack of knowledge on her actual emotional state. “I think…” She trailed off. “I don’t know.” 

Maia nodded, moving behind Clary to unzip her skirt. Clary wrapped her arms around her body, sighing softly as her girlfriend’s hand slid down the zipper of the straight blue skirt. Maia slid her fingers between Clary’s skin and the fabric, pulling it down to the floor. 

Maia could feel herself grow a little more worried. Clary looked so distressed and empty. It had never been this bad. She helped Clary step out of the skirt discarded on the floor, reaching to help her pull the hoodie over her head. They both knew Clary could dress herself, but right now, she needed the small comfort of the ritual, of being taken care of. 

“It could have been me.” 

Maia’s blood ran cold. She swallowed, trying to keep down the screams and the fear and the need to grab Clary and pull her into her arms and keep her close, close and safe and never let her go back outside on this horrible job she had. 

“I know,” Clary said, sensing Maia’s distress without her saying a word. But after those horrible words, she fell silent again. Maia rearranged her flaming hair, pulling it out of the collar of the hoodie. She had a small smile, that she meant as reassuring. Clary closed her eyes for a second. She was home. She was lucky enough to be home. 

“I will keep you safe,” Maia promised, reaching to cup Clary’s cheek. Clary opened her eyes to look at her. It was as if Maia could see what was happening in her mind, staring into those green eyes that she loved so much. She could feel Clary shaking slightly against her palm. 

They managed to get her into the yoga pants. Each step out of the sanctuary of the bedroom made Clary shake a little more. She could feel her legs shivering and making her stumble a little. She could feel her grip on her own body slipping away and she hated it, but the distress that was slowly consuming her, growing inside of her, was too much for her to handle. Tears were slowly starting to fall from her eyes, uncontrollable. 

She almost fell onto the couch. Maia caught her halfway through. By the time she was sitting on the couch, Clary was sobbing in Maia’s arms. 

It was violent. It had gone from barely there to this intense breakdown she’d never seen before, and Maia hated herself for not realizing the intensity of what Clary was going through. She could only hold her as Clary sobbed silently, her body shaking with each breath. 

Clary didn’t talk. She couldn’t talk. Sometimes, distressed sounds came out of her throat. They were ripped from her body by sobs. Clary wanted to disappear. She wanted it all to stop. She wanted to stay on this couch, curled up against Maia until the world stopped spinning outside. 

She held onto Maia and Maia held her right back. 

Clary couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Emily Stevens. About how she and Emily were almost the same person. About how, Clary had made it home, and Emily hadn’t. Maybe Emily had a Maia. Someone that was waiting for her to come home. Someone that would never stop waiting. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Maia whispered, and Clary buried her head against her chest and held her even tighter. 

Clary couldn’t bear the thought of Maia waiting for her to come home from work, forever. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her that way. She’d promised she wouldn’t hurt Maia more than people in her past had. She’d promised to her girlfriend and to herself, that she wouldn’t break her heart. 

She could have. She still could. She was never in control of what could happen outside of the comforting cocoon of their home. Everyday, she threatened to break this beautiful, fragile heart of Maia’s. 

Maia held her tight, until the sobs starting slowly fading away. Until Clary was exhausted, panting, but dry-eyed. She held her close still, Clary sitting on her lap, curled up against her as Maia rocked her slowly. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” She kept repeating, until Clary started slowly to believe it. “You’re home. You’re safe. I’m here.” 

She made hot chocolate once Clary was done shaking, and they stayed curled up on the couch for hours. Maia called in sick at work. There was still something in Clary’s eyes, something that said that this wasn’t over, that this was only the beginning. Maia chose to ignore it. For now, they were okay. They would take it one day at a time. 

Clary looked up at Maia, watching her face and the way her hair framed it. She couldn’t break her heart. She wouldn’t allow herself to, no matter what the world did. She would always come home, if only for Maia’s sake. 

There was a big blanket on her shoulders, and a warm hot chocolate mug in her hands, and Maia was painting her toenails, because they were both trying to focus on something that wasn’t the fear in both of their hearts. 

\----

A week later, and Magnus Bane was standing in front of his mirror, checking for the last time if the makeup he was wearing was in good shape, and adding some setting spray to it. His relatively short experiences at Pride had taught him that you always ended up wet in some way, either sprayed with water, beer or simply very sweaty. 

Purple and pink dye was adorning his hair, temporarily of course, though he’d always liked the pop of color it brought. 

Magnus hadn’t thought he would be going back to Pride this soon after the accident. He’d been avoiding anywhere that was more crowded than a gym, after all. Still, somehow, after what had happened at the crime scene the week before, he felt… he felt different. 

Truth be told, he couldn’t let himself be prisoner of his gift anymore. Yes, it was still inconvenient - and the clothes he’d worn at the crime scene were hidden deep in his closet - but he needed to actually live. 

It had crippled him since birth, these nagging feelings that other people had. They had been the biggest obstacle in his life, and he had - many times - wished death on the people who let their pesky emotions stain the air around his city. 

But Magnus couldn’t demand for the world to stop feeling. 

He sighed deeply and stared at himself for another moment. He didn’t look as bad as he had the week before. That was always something positive. The dorky t-shirt, adorned with a cat and a rooster to advertise his bisexuality, was relatively old, but it still fit him. The shorts were made from an old pair of jeans that he had cut slightly above the knee the night before. Pre-Pride Arts and Crafts were always part of his process. Magnus pursed his lips and turned away from the mirror. 

Alexander Lightwood was sitting in his usual spot on the couch when Magnus came out of his bedroom, engrossed - as usual - in his staring contest with Chairman. It happened almost every day now. Magnus would find the two of them staring at each other, both looking as ready to pounce as the other was, but today, Alexander had a hint of a smile on his lips. 

The man was wearing a white shirt and black jeans. The only thing indicating that he was going to Pride was the lines of paint on his cheeks, the colors of the rainbow flag. Magnus wasn’t surprised that he had chosen something so alike his everyday outfits. 

Alec looked up when he heard the other man cough in that distinct way that was meant to bring attention to him. Magnus Bane was… wearing clothes. That were different than usual. They were showing skin. A lot more skin than he was used to. 

The psychic had nice legs. That wasn’t the only thing that registered in Alec’s mind as he looked up from the man’s shoes to his face - he was wearing purple in his hair and goddamn makeup and it was attractive. It was very attractive. Despite Magnus not being the type of guys Alec ever looked at. Despite the… queerness of it all. It was too much. The bi flag as a belt, was too much. The shorts - despite only being cut to the knee - were too much. Alec didn’t know how to deal with attractive men that didn’t wear more… conservative clothes. This was so unlike his usual attraction patterns. 

Alec was a “Daniel Radcliffe in Kill Your Darlings” kind of man. Not a “weird psychic Magnus Bane” kind of man. Not a “guy wearing shorts and pride flags” kind of man. 

Chairman was obviously displeased that Alec had stopped the eye contact challenge with him, and was making it known by rubbing against him firmly to get his attention. Alec petted him for a second distractedly, before standing up. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, trying hard not stare. ‘Get it together, Lightwood,’ he berated himself. 

Magnus nodded, and grabbed his keys and his phone, and some cash. For beer and for pride goodies. He couldn’t help but feel extremely nervous at the idea of going there, of having to deal with the subway, and the crowds. 

As they walked to the subway station, he tried to psych himself up. After all, it was Pride. It was supposed to be joyous. He would be in a whirlwind of happiness, not actual bad feelings. And he was stronger now. Much stronger. 

The platform of the subway was already crowded with people and feelings. Magnus felt a little dizzy, but Alec grabbed his arm to steady him as they walked into a car of the train. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy to resist the pool of emotions threatening to drown him, but Alec’s touch, and Alec’s own feelings, made it easier. Magnus was growing used to the man’s presence, in a way that made the agent grounding. 

In another train on another line of the subway, Meliorn was looking at Isabelle. She looked ethereal. Her hair was long and loose, she was wearing a pair of white leggings with a skirt at the back, a white crop top, with golden body chains and her earrings had the bisexual symbol on them. 

She’d pushed her sunglasses up in her hair, and was holding the pole in the middle of the car, looking pensively at her surroundings. There was something about her that made Meliorn feel like… feel something he’d never felt before. 

Isabelle’s laugh was loud, her smile was bright, and she was… so beautiful. Their relationship was comfortable. Sexual - for sure - but he was a sexual person himself. He had loved the time when she’d spent the night. Falling asleep by her side, and saying hello in the shower, was the kind of casual intimacy he had been craving more and more lately. 

Meliorn was a rather simple man. He worked in one of the little food stands of Chelsea Market, in one of the bakeries. He did occasionally bake, but he was more of a salesman. He’d met Isabelle on Tinder, and they’d hooked up once. Then twice. And then many more times after that. 

He liked coffee and smoothies; hummus and piercings. He’d wanted to be in the entertainment industry, but he wasn’t good enough of a singer or an actor to break there. 

He’d never thought he would be so comfortable around someone like Isabelle. She wasn’t conservative, and their values weren’t opposite, but they came from different worlds. She worked at the FBI, she was Christian, she came from a wealthy family and neighbourhood. He was far from all of that. 

Meliorn didn’t actually care, but he was sometimes surprised their connection had lasted. 

The train pulled into their station and they got out, Izzy reaching to take his hand as they walked up to Bryant Park. It was difficult to define their relationship. They weren’t a couple. They were lovers, maybe, but it felt like there was more to it than that. 

Already waiting for them, not far from the subway’s exit, were Clary and Maia. The two women had managed to make it out of the house, despite the tension that had been tight in Clary’s shoulder. More than once on their way from home to the meeting point, Maia had almost suggested going back and cancelling. 

But this was Pride. If there was any day where they needed to show how unafraid they were, it was this day. If there was any day where she could let go of things for a while, it was this day. Clary knew it. She had her lesbian-flag-themed flower crown and leggings, her crop top and her girlfriend by her side, smiling just as wide in matching bisexual-flag-themed flower crown and skirt. 

Izzy hugged Clary happily, exchanging greetings. She turned to Maia and hugged her quickly as well. She was about to introduce Meliorn to the two women, when a group approached them. 

Her brother had a hint of a smile on his face as he guided the psychic, Ragnor Fell, and two women Izzy recognized from their files. 

“Hey, Iz,” Alec said, moving to hug his sister. He was surprised how much he missed her, now that he had been living with Magnus for more than a month. He didn’t want to admit that he missed his apartment, and his life. 

“I’m surprised you came,” Isabelle muttered, keeping her voice down a little. Magnus and his friends were currently introducing themselves to Clary, Maia and Meliorn. 

“Only because he wanted to go, and I needed to keep an eye on him,” Alec pointed out, though the smile tugging at his lips said something else. 

Alec wasn’t really proud of being gay. He was neutral, most days. It was just a part of him that was there, an attraction he acted on, but he had never bothered to consider it as more than what it was. It was just the term he used to define his attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. And his attraction to men was just… a chemical reaction he had when he saw them. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing to make a whole parade about, in his opinion. 

He still enjoyed the atmosphere, for a couple of hours before it became too obvious a safety hazard. 

Alec quickly let go of his sister, before turning to the others. He said hi to Clary, and to Maia, smiling at the weird little wave the black woman was doing. It was a little awkward maybe. He paused before Meliorn, and watched the man for a second, before introducing himself. 

“I’m Alec Lightwood. Iz-’” 

“Isabelle’s brother, yes,” Meliorn interrupted and shook his hand. “She has told me about you. I’m Meliorn.” 

“Original name,” Alec observed, and let go of the man’s hand, his arms instinctively going into a soldier’s relaxed stance, clasped behind his back. He searched for more words, for something else to tell the man, but didn’t find any before Izzy interrupted them. 

He sighed as they started walking towards the start of the parade. Along the way, one of the technicians of the FBI, who was also a friend of Maia’s, joined the group. They were ten now. A bit too many for Alec to keep track off. 

“Hey.” 

Magnus’ voice was soft, but Alec heard the word and turned to face the man. The psychic had a small smile and gently tapped Alec’s shoulder. It sent a shiver running down his spine. He wasn’t used to touch anymore. 

“Relax, Alexander,” Magnus added. “We’re safe here.” 

“There are too many people for us to be safe. The statistics are against everyone coming home safe,” Alec muttered, grinding his teeth. 

Magnus laughed and rolled his eyes. “Please. Relax. We’re going to be fine. We all need to loosen up a little. And besides, what’s the point if we don’t take some risks?” 

“Says the man who lives pretty much a recluse,” Alec replied. 

Magnus nodded, silent for an moment. Around them, their friends and the crowd were intensifying. There were too many emotional signatures flying around, and yet, with Alec’s now familiar feelings next to him, he wasn’t as overwhelmed as he thought he would be. 

“And yet, here I am today. Trying to… live a little, and enjoy myself. You should do the same, Alexander,” Magnus advised before tapping his arm again and leaving Alec behind, wandering off to talk with his friends. 

Alec stayed behind the rest of the group for a moment, eyes gliding over them. Clary, who was as tense as he was, if not more, being gently coaxed into laughter by her girlfriend. The two of them had a beautiful relationship, and though Alec always tried to ignore them, and how happy they looked, most of the time, he couldn’t help but envy them. 

It had been a long time since the last time he’d been held like Maia was currently holding Clary. It had been even longer since the last time someone had kissed his cheek, the way Meliorn had just kissed Izzy’s. It had been a very long time since he’d spent significant time with anyone who wasn’t a colleague, or a family member, or a random one-night-stand. 

Most of the time, he hated the part of him that was still hopeful that one day he’d find someone that fit him, and still yearned for some romantic attachment. 

His eyes settled on Magnus Bane for a moment. The man was still as much of a mystery as he had been the first day they’d met. He was even more so, really, but in a different way. Alec wanted to get closer to him. To know more. 

Alec bet his skin smelled like the incense he burned every day in the apartment, or like the tea he was always drinking. Maybe being that close to him would give him answers he couldn’t get any other way. 

Magnus Bane had a magic to him, and maybe then Alec would know the design of it. He would know what he was, really, if only he got closer. Or maybe he would just have fun. That could work. Alec’s eyes trailed down to the man’s ass. He was always one to appreciate beautiful men. 

Almost two hours later, Magnus was sipping on his third beer. He did enjoy alcohol, from time to time. Pride was always an occasion to have fun and drink and be amongst like-minded people. 

He and Maia had formed an easy connection. The woman was strong, and they were quite similar in many ways. Souls that were a bit too worn for their years. The fact that they shared a flag was also a bond. 

Ragnor, Cat and Dot seemed to be enjoying themselves. Ragnor was having a chat with Simon, Maia’s friend, a pansexual man with a Star of David on his flag. Magnus remembered Simon from when they’d installed cameras in his apartment. 

The young man was currently laughing at the T-shirt Ragnor was wearing. On a man like the psychic, the “My anaconda don’t want none” aromantic and asexual pride garment was indeed quite hilarious. It clashed wonderfully with his dry and sarcastic personality. 

Alexander seemed to be enjoying himself too. His shirt was less buttoned than before, and it let a very tantalizing strip of bare skin peek through. Bare skin, with hair. A detail that Magnus noted. Men with hair were oh-so attractive. 

There was a smile on the agent’s face, his hand had run through his hair enough for it to be disheveled. It was a sight Magnus hadn’t really ever seen. A side of Alexander he had never seen before.

Alec and Catarina were involved in a pretty intense conversation. Knowing Catarina it could be anything from a specific intersection of hospital and FBI procedure to who could be Rey’s parents in Star Wars. As long as Alexander didn’t think Rey was destined to end up with Kylo Ren, it would probably go very well. 

Magnus was glad everyone was getting along. It was starting to become slightly hard to manage the feelings all around him, and he knew that he wouldn’t stay more than one hour after this, but he was having an enormous amount of fun. 

There was a loud laugh as Izzy climbed onto Meliorn’s back for a piggyback ride. Alec watched his sister. Her smile was louder than he’d ever seen it, or at least that he’d seen it in years. He turned to look for Magnus. 

The man was slightly behind them, sipping on his beer. Their eyes met, and they both smiled. Magnus looked beautiful like this. Perhaps Pride hadn’t been a bad idea, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> 
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfdb1bZ_M95-pRTZlng2NSjLRJQ_kkaZoL8aN1IXtfrcA_yWQ/viewform?usp=sf_link


	11. XI: The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upright: Shadow self, attachment, addiction, restriction, sexuality  
> Reversed: Releasing limiting beliefs, exploring dark thoughts, detachment
> 
> The Devil card shows Baphomet, or the Horned Goat of Mendes. Baphomet was originally intended to represent balance between good and evil, male and female, and human and animal.
> 
> The Devil card represents your shadow (or darker) side and the negative forces that constrain you and hold you back from being the best version of yourself. You may be at the effect of negative habits, dependencies, behaviours, thought patterns, relationships, and addictions. You have found yourself trapped between the short-term pleasure you receive and the longer-term pain you experience.
> 
> The reversed Devil card can often appear when you are on the verge of a break-through or an up-levelling of some kind. You are being called to your highest potential. Often, when you are called to something 'more', you must deal with your shadows before you can truly step into this new version of yourself. It may be addiction, unhealthy relationships, or a disengaging career. Let go of fear and release any self-imposed limiting beliefs that are standing in the way of your growth and expansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has sexual content! After the arrest part, after Alec comes home!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I did go through the results of the survey, and it came to my attention that some readers do not read all of the scenes. First, this is incredibly hurtful to me as a writer, and second, all scenes are important. This fic has hints and clues all over the place, and when it comes to the Claia scenes, they are especially important to Clary's development. I highly recommend for people to read all the scenes written, because those ARE ALL necessary to the story. 
> 
> This chapter was helped greatly by @lewispanda and TaupeFox59.  
> Thank you!

It was the day after the Pride parade. It was Sunday morning, and just like every Sunday morning since she’d been born, Izzy was walking through the door of her church. The congregation she attended was comfortable and friendly, and open-minded the way she enjoyed. She wouldn’t feel guilty bringing any partner, no matter their skin color, sexuality, or gender. 

As usual, she was there early. She came to pray and feel at one with God. She came to feel the comfort and calm that always took control of her when she stepped into a church. 

Izzy knelt, and laced her fingers together. As a kid, she would close her eyes while praying, because every visual sensation would distract her. But now, she didn’t need to. The visual stimuli had become an integral part of her prayer. After all, God was an integral part of reality, and He was present everywhere - she didn’t have to close her eyes, to be able to talk to Him. 

She could just see Him in every person, and in every thing ever created, both in nature, and by humans. He was in the kind eyes of the woman sitting behind her. In the little details on the wall, and all the hard work that had gone into creating it. He even was in the young child, who wiggled in their seat, wanting to go back home and play with their toys.

He was around her, ready to help, if He wished it. He was there, comfortable, and benevolent, like a smiling father, watching her make her first steps into the world. In a way, she’d never really felt this bond with her human father. 

_“Hello,”_ she started. _“Things have been rough lately. Not that you don’t know that already.”_

She preferred narrating, despite the knowledge that she couldn’t tell Him anything He didn’t know. It was comfortable, and right still to talk to Him this way. To tell Him about her day, like she did every night. 

He existed outside of time and space. Yet He felt closer than many - it brought her comfort. Like a free therapy session. She could get it off her chest, and distance herself from it.

 _“Catching this serial killer is...hard. Even if it’s far from the first one and I should… be used to it now...”_ The corners of her lips lifted up in a resemblance of a small smile. _“This time is harder than before. We’re exhausted. We’re desperate.”_

Izzy licked her lips and squeezed her hands a little tighter. Sometimes she liked to imagine it was the invisible hand of God that squeezed back. 

_“I feel...helpless. As if I’m chasing someone who is always one step in front of me, and who knows my every move.”_ Her shoulders sagged, and her hands relaxed again. _“Things don’t bring me as much joy as they used to. We went to Pride yesterday. It was good, but… I was worried the entire time. And others are affected, too. Clary is more paranoid every day. This is breaking her. She is spiralling more and more every day. I know she has Maia, that she has someone to help her, but Maia doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be one of us. And this… this work we do… it’s enough to break the strongest of us.”_

Izzy looked up higher, searching for guidance, knowing He was there. Hoping He was listening. It was cliché move. And yet, every time she did it, it felt… good. 

_“Alec… Alec was strong. He was already broken, yes, but it made it worse.”_ Alec’s smile wasn’t what it used to be. It had never been the brightest, the most relaxed, but now it was barely there. He was a shadow, a shadow of who he used to be. _“He deserved so much more. So much.”_ He’d always been a shield against what her parents would say. It was in his nature, to just take in, like a sponge, every single one of the words people called him. Izzy couldn’t help but worry, every day, about him. It was her big brother, she was so worried about. 

Izzy could feel the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, so she tried to discreetly wipe them off. Someone coming to her to ask what’s wrong was the last thing she wanted right now. There was no one in her life that she was as close to as she was to Alec. And to God. 

_“Ever since he met Magnus, he’s different. Good different. Maybe it was your intention to bring them together. Thank you for it. For Magnus. I truly believe he could make my brother happy. Alec deserves it so much. Alec has such a big heart. He’s just had no other choice than to hide it from the world.”_

She sometimes wondered who he would be, if their parents had accepted him. If their church didn’t spew hateful lies towards who he was. And the FBI Academy wasn’t exactly a queer fanclub either. How many times could one have their trust broken? Their heart broken? How many times, before they closed themselves off? She, and her siblings, would be so different, if there hadn’t been this… hateful message behind every word her parents said. 

Even her mother would be different, without this smothering version of her faith. Maryse Lightwood was a tired and bitter woman, turned sour by a life she’d never really wanted and a husband who had never loved her the right way. Izzy’s heart broke a little more every time she walked by her mother’s bedroom and saw Maryse alone, every time she saw the empty glass of wine on the kitchen counter. Every time Maryse could only muster a tight-lipped smile. 

Izzy added a short thank you for her mother and her brother. She just wished for her parents to see that maybe their children weren’t abominations. She wished that Maryse would one day learn to love. To love others. And herself. 

_“I know you already gave me everything I needed. Everything I could ever want, to succeed in this life, and I know it’s just up to me now, and I just... ”_ She squeezed her hands tighter. _“I admit, it would be so much easier, if you just kept everyone safe. Help Clary to be brave again. Make Alec happy. Watch over Mom and Max. Look after all our agents, and the girls in the city. But I also know that You give us all the tools, so we can do it on our own, and not sit passively. Sometimes, with a little bit of Your help.”_

There were days, when Izzy believed God could do everything, if it was His will. That someone was there to guide, and protect. But there were also days when she thought He only sat and watched, and it was only up to them to do everything. And there were those where she was angry, angry at Him for not doing anything, even if she had no right to actually demand action from Him. Some days, it was easier to blame someone else, than to blame herself, or human actions. No matter what was the truth, though, asking Him for help gave her strength and comfort. 

_“So grant me some of wisdom to know what to do. To know how to protect people better. To know what to say to Clary and Alec, to lift their spirits. And - Oh.”_ She suddenly remembered something.

 _“Simply… Thank you for all of them. For everything that you give me every day.”_ He didn’t need her thanks, but over the years, she had learned that thanking Him taught her how to see all the good things in life. It made her happier, and she valued all the small moments even more. _“Especially for Meliorn. I don’t know yet if I love him. Or what will become of it. You probably do.”_ Her eyes shone with mirth, all the tears long forgotten. Praying had that effect on her, most of the time. _“But even not knowing, I am excited to see the future unfold, for the two of us. Because I know there is something there.”_

She was barely finishing her prayer when people started coming in, more and more, for the Sunday service. Izzy looked up, straightening up and sitting back down, at her usual seat. 

There were a couple of new faces, younger than the usual crowd. Most people her age attended the 11am service. Izzy herself did, when she really couldn’t get to the 9am one. It always made her a little sad, because it meant she couldn’t pray in the quietness before. If she went to the 11am, she would get a coffee in the hall afterwards, and talk with some people. 

She was wearing a fairly usual outfit, except her shoes were tan pumps instead of the boots she wore for work. Her shirt was buttoned up more than usual, and blue, instead of white, so her bra wouldn’t show though. She had black dress pants, and a matching blazer, and her hair was done in a bun. Her makeup was minimal, and her only jewelry some earrings she’d gotten for her confirmation, and her cross.

The service started after a moment, and she followed everyone in the comfortable familiarity of it, and in the hymns and chants. It went on, in some kind of blur, but by the end of it, after the Creed had resounded through the walls, Izzy felt a kind of peace she didn’t associate with any other place on earth. 

An hour and a half later, and Izzy was stepping out of the church, reaching to turn on her phone again. Maybe there would be messages from Alec or Clary, regarding the search for the killer. Maybe there would be a text from Meliorn, since it was around the time he usually woke up on Sundays. 

Indeed, there was one from him, and she happily replied that she would love to spend some time with him in the afternoon. It was a day off, anyway. Unless she was called in, she didn’t really have anything to do. 

She was about to leave to go to the subway station and go home, when she was stopped by a hand on her arm. 

“Hey, excuse me,” said the owner of the hand when she turned around. The man was tall, blonde, with hazel eyes. He smiled at her widely. “You’re Isabelle Lightwood, right?” he asked. He spoke with a British accent that was hard to miss. 

She frowned and nodded. “Yes, how can I help you?” 

Had her name somehow leaked during the media coverage of the Brooklyn Killer, or did she know the man from somewhere? He didn’t really seem familiar. She didn’t know many tall blonde guys, with sharp jawlines. 

“I’m Sebastian. Aline Penhallow’s cousin.” The man reached to shake her hand. 

The Penhallow family was very alike the Lightwoods. Izzy knew her father probably saw them as slightly lower, but she didn’t have his racist bias. Aline and Izzy had gone to school together, from kindergarten to high school, before Aline had moved to London to live with her extended family, the Verlacs, and study there. 

Izzy missed her friend, even if the distance made their relationship slightly less awkward. They’d dated for a while in high school, and Aline had been Izzy’s first love, and first kiss. They had been young and stupid, and enjoyed the thrill of kissing in the hallway of their religious private schools, ruffling their uniforms. 

“Oh my God, really?” Izzy grinned, and instead of shaking his hand gave him a small hug. “You’re the cousin from London, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Sebastian chuckled. “We met once, at a New Year’s at Aunt Gia’s.” 

“Of course.” Izzy nodded. She didn’t remember him at all. 

Sebastian nodded. “It’s really nice to see you here. I didn’t know you attended this… kind of church.” 

If she remembered well, the Verlacs had always seemed the more progressive side of the Penhallow family. It had been partly why Aline had moved away to London. Just like Izzy, she’d wanted the comfort of family, but without the homophobia of her direct relatives. 

“I do, I do. It’s my usual church. What brings you here?” Izzy asked. 

“Well, I came to visit my Aunt, and brought a friend to New York. He wanted to visit.” 

As if on cue, a man walked towards the two of them. He introduced himself as Adam Cain, a college friend of Sebastian’s, and one of the main reason he was in New York. They decided to go get a coffee, and talk more about Aline, their families, and everything since the last time they’d seen each other. Over fifteen years ago. 

They stopped at Birch Coffee, a block or two from the church. Sebastian offered to pay for coffee, but Izzy declined. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression. Even if she and Meliorn had never really talked about exclusivity, she considered herself a taken girl. 

They sat at one of the tables in the middle of the room. Inexplicably, Izzy’s cappuccino had a heart drawn in the foam. She added some sugar, and stirred it in. 

The coffee was good and conversation relatively pleasant. She learned that they’d been In New York for several months already, but never attended this service. They went to the 11am one, the one Izzy rarely went to. It had just been a coincidence, that today they’d decided to go early. 

They’d arrived in New York in early November, and would leave around the same time this year. Izzy actually enjoyed this, and did exchange numbers with the two men, before she left to go home. It felt nice to see an old friend, even if she hadn’t remembered him. Maybe Alec knew him more, since they’d probably been around each other more. 

She thought about inviting him and his friend for a drink with the rest of the squad some day. The other man, Adam Cain, with the strangely biblical name, was nice as well. Though he didn’t have the same personal connection to her as Sebastian did, he still was nice to be around. 

Izzy took the subway back home. She had some time to hit the gym, work out for an hour or two, make lunch and go see Meliorn. It was still strange not to have Alec to go do her Sunday work out with. 

She walked back into their apartment. It was really strange. Alec hadn’t really lived with anyone but their family before, except when he was at the Academy. He’d never reached the moment in his relationships where he’d moved in with a boyfriend. 

Hopefully, soon enough he would be back home, and the case would be over. She’d bonded a little with Magnus Bane at Pride, and she would be a little sad to see his influence leave Alec’s life. But it would be better if they didn’t have him around anymore, because his presence only meant the killer wasn’t caught. 

Izzy spent a nice afternoon with Meliorn, cuddling and reading on his couch, as the soft scent of the incense he burnt wrapped around them. She thought again about what she’d told God that morning. How she knew they had something special. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week and a day later, on the 10th of July, there was still no news from anyone about the killer. Izzy sat in front of her computer, scrolling through missing persons, and reports. She picked occasionally a forkful at her chicken salad. It tasted bland. 

Alec and Clary were around the coffee machine, probably chatting with Luke and Jace, while Izzy had been chosen as “email watcher of the day”. They’d decided when the team had been put together to always have one person at their desk during lunch break, to wait for emails and reports regarding the case they worked on. Today was Izzy’s turn. 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before nibbling on another piece of chicken. If only they would get just one email, one… hint of something they could do. They’d interviewed the friends and family of the most recent victim, Emily Stevens. There were no real leads. 

Emily had been seen leaving a club, with a tall, blonde man. She’d been found dead the next morning.

Izzy grabbed her phone and earbuds and put on some music. She was in a Nicki Minaj kind of mood today. She was in a ”think about anything but the killer on the loose” kind of mood, in general. She would give anything for it to be over right now. 

Alec brought her a coffee, and gave her a small, sorry smile. She smiled back, and patted his arm for a second, before he went back to… whatever he was doing. He didn’t look as tired as he usually did. Maybe for once he was sleeping more than three hours. Izzy needed to ask Magnus what he did to make Alec this… tender.

Suddenly, as Izzy was refreshing her emails for the umpteenth time, the red ‘1’ of a notification popped up. A notification, for an email titled ‘identity suspect case #234AB7’.

“Guys!” she shouted, as she opened the email, and the link to the report, and to the identity the lab had just found. Fuck. Fuck, this was it, they had a suspect. “GUYS,” she repeated, even as she could hear hurried steps coming her way. 

They all huddled around the computer as she opened the file and saw the image of the killer. Finally. Finally something they could work on. 

“Edward Caldwell, 39 years old. Born March 23rd 1978.” Clary read out loud, somewhere on the left side of Izzy. 

“Blonde, 5’10, matching the description made by the club goers, however accurate that is…” Jace continued. 

“DNA found on the victim,” Alec finished. 

It was strange, but welcomed, that the killer had slipped up. Usually, there was no DNA. Nothing. But finally, finally they had something. There was an almost gleeful atmosphere in the room as they strapped on their gear. 

They shouldn’t feel this… happy about bringing in a suspect. And yet, the exhaustion of the last few months, culminating in this… moment made their enthusiasm much more important. They knew it was far from over. But it was the first real lead. Magnus had fit for maybe three of the victims, but this one fit for way more. 

According to the file, the man had a restraining order, filed against him by two women with strawberry blonde hair. Enough to provide a motive for his crimes. Enough to make it feel like it was finally ending. 

Izzy placed a hand on Alec’s shoulder. Both of them knew the case was far from being over, but at least they finally had something. A suspect that could turn out to be their murderer, something solid to move on with their investigation.

He turned around and their eyes locked together. Izzy could see some of the tension visibly leaving Alec’s body, and a small smile playing at his lips - something she hadn’t seen in a while. They could finally breathe and not feel guilty about having a serial killer on the loose.

“We shouldn’t be this happy. He’s still just a suspect,” Alec muttered, but they both knew it was only him trying to fight the relief and the almost joy-like feeling that was starting to overcome all of them. 

“Shut up,” Izzy retorted. “For once, let’s enjoy that we have a good lead.” 

Alec kept his small corner-mouthed smile, and pulled her in for a hug for a moment. It was awkward, with the bulletproof vests in between them, but he got to squeeze her for a second, and kiss her temple. 

They piled into one of the SUVs, checking guns and gear. Clary and Izzy pulled up their hair, and got ready, for what still was an arrest. The arrest of a violent serial killer, nonetheless. It wasn’t a time to walk in unprepared. 

The drive felt like it lasted forever. They were all buzzing with unbridled energy. It was strange how happy they were about arresting someone. They shouldn’t have been. The moral side of Clary’s brain kept telling her than she was still sending someone to prison. She could see Luke’s car following them. 

They got out of the car and Clary walked up to the house to knock on the door. Alec stood behind her, gun ready to shoot in case of problem. Jace and Izzy had slipped to the back of the house, in case the man tried to flee. 

And he did. The second Clary shouted “FBI”, there was a commotion. Footsteps, rushing from the main room to the back of the house. The floor was old enough for the steps to resound, and so Clary and Alec heard the man run out. 

They cursed and Alec ran to the back of the house, Clary following him, gun out. They arrived to Jace punching the suspect hard enough for the man to stumble back. Izzy grabbed him immediately and got him to the ground. 

Izzy’s gun was lying on the ground not far from them. She’d been disarmed. She was quick to get the cuffs on him and Alec pulled him up. She retrieved her weapon. 

They delivered the guy to Luke, and Jace got in the car with the older man to keep an eye on the suspect. They drove back to the precinct. 

Clary checked the clock on the car dashboard. It had taken less than 15 minutes for them to arrest the guy. With the traffic to come back, they would be at the precinct around 2.30. 

Izzy hummed to the song on the radio as she drove them back. Alec was sitting in the backseat, and Clary was texting next to her. She guessed she was texting Maia. 

“How about a drink tonight?” she asked. “To celebrate. Even if he doesn’t confess by tonight, we can still keep him for longer, we have evidence. And it would just be nice for all of us to have some fun.” 

Strangely, Alec was the first to reply. “Deal. Clary, text your girl that we’re coming tonight, okay?” he warned. 

“Right on it, boss!” Clary chuckled. She had been planning to ask them anyway. “Should I tell her Magnus is coming too?” 

Izzy and her exchanged a knowing look. They had noticed how Alec seemed to relax a little when talking about the psychic. Izzy had just not expected for her friend to ask that question right now. It wasn’t like Alec had really said much about Magnus, to either of them. Which was kinda why Izzy was craving a brunch date with her brother.

“No, let’s just do a squad thing, tonight,” Alec replied, though perhaps not as coldly as he should have. While the idea of having Magnus around was good… he wasn’t a part of the team, not really. 

Several hours later, and Magnus Bane was unaware of the celebrations that had been going on at the Hunter’s Moon, or even what they were about. He was mostly waiting for Alexander to come back from work so they could have dinner and go to bed, and let another day of fruitless research end. 

This situation was getting more and more stressful for most of the people involved, and Magnus was just as anxious. It felt like they were walking in a tunnel without a light at the end of it, just walking, without stopping, further and further into the darkness. 

Going to Pride the week before had felt like a breath of fresh air, something they all needed. Magnus had enjoyed himself for once, for a couple of hours with new and old friends, and then Alec and he had gone home and chatted for hours. 

Alec had had Chairman on his lap. He’d been laughing and drinking tea. He’d been beautiful in a way that Magnus couldn’t deny for much longer. Alexander was hot. There was something about him that was attractive, despite their earlier differences. 

Magnus didn’t exactly know how to deal with his attraction to this man that - though they often shared looks and Ragnor seemed to think Alec was into him - didn’t seem to appreciate Magnus more than he showed. 

Maybe Magnus was just not used to being attracted in that way to people, not anymore. He hadn’t had that kind of connection with someone in a long time. He did enjoy sex. Just not often, and not with the wrong people. 

He busied himself in the kitchen, wondering exactly what was going on for Alec to be late. He considered texting him, or Izzy, to make sure everything was alright, but he didn’t. It wasn’t his place. He wasn’t allowed to be worried like that, it wasn’t like he cared for the guy in any real way, right? He was just worried because there was a killer on the loose, and he was home, alone, without his personal detail. 

The clock on the wall ticked the seconds away. It was usually a serene sound to Magnus, but today, it was too loud, in the quiet. Chairman was napping somewhere, Magnus didn’t exactly know where. 

Magnus waited for another thirty minutes. After these passed, and there was still no news from Alec, he told himself he would wait, for another half hour, and then text if Alec still wasn’t home. He managed to hold on for eighteen minutes, before he grabbed his phone. 

He opened his message chat with Alec, and resumed their dinner planning. He was about to hit send on his ‘only appropriately concerned “at what time will you be home?”’ message, when the door opened. 

Alec walked in with a smile Magnus had never seen on his face. His entire body was relaxed, his smile so wide and genuine and Magnus was… transfixed for a second. 

Alec had been… having a good fucking evening. Drinks with the squad at the Hunter’s Moon, with the rush of having had a good day, and having arrested a serial killer making his heart beat faster. He’d hugged his sister and friends and colleagues, and made the most out of the couple of hours. He’d somewhat regretted not having invited Magnus. 

He wasn’t much of a drinker, and only had a beer or two in his system. Enough for the world to really seem like a better place, and enough to stop in front of Magnus, and wonder why the hell he wasn’t kissing him right that moment. 

Magnus was tall and gorgeous, with lips that made Alec weak in the knees, and yes, maybe he’d thought about the other man in ways that were not professional. More than once. He did often wonder how he looked under the layers he usually wore. 

He wondered how Magnus looked when he was getting off, how he would look under him, looking up at him with maybe his mouth open and… 

Fuck, he was getting distracted, and he really shouldn’t be thinking about that. He muttered a hello, and took off his coat, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down, and not get a hard-on in the middle of the psychic’s living room, right in front of him. 

Alec swallowed and walked towards him. He thought about what to say, how to make fairly inoffensive small talk before going to bed and jerking off in the shower. He failed. He failed so badly, at finding words that he just stayed silent, awkward for a while before he decided to say ‘fuck it’. 

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, and Magnus looked up, surprised. 

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but it didn’t mean Magnus hated the idea. He was just… yeah, surprised. Alec hadn’t really seemed to be that interested in him, at least not that way. Maybe Magnus was just bad at reading sexual energy. But right now? There was a strong sense of euphoria that rolled off the agent, and underlying lust. 

Magnus could feel it around the air, hot. He could feel the tension. He could feel the heaviness, in the way Alec stared at him, stared at his lips. His eyes were dark, his lips were parted, and fuck, he looked so attractive right now that Magnus wanted to jump him. 

“Why?” he asked. He didn’t know why he had just asked that. 

“Because I want you. Because we got the fucking killer, and this would be the perfect kind of celebration,” Alec replied, his voice a little lower. He didn’t stop staring. 

He kept a distance that was respectful, but Magnus closed it quickly. He smirked a little. Yeah. Celebrating right now felt like a good idea. He tilted his head a little, catching the man’s eyes. 

Magnus inched closer, looking up at Alec, tempting him, _trusting_ that he wouldn’t kiss him or touch him until given permission and loving the slow drag of temptation. Magnus blinked, still looking into his eyes. 

“Then you should kiss me, yeah -” 

He’d barely finished his sentence when Alec’s hands cupped his cheeks and he kissed him. Hard. 

Fuck this was good. 

Magnus made a small needy sound and moved closer, intoxicated by the desire in the air. It pressed them together, Alec’s lips still against his, hungry. Devouring him. One of the man’s hands still held his face, keeping him still as he kissed him over and over again. 

They barely stopped to breathe. 

Alec pushed him slightly, guiding him until Magnus’ back hit the wall of the kitchen, and Alec then pressed his body against his. Hard. He kissed him again, and Magnus’ hand reached into Alec’s hair. He grabbed, and tugged slightly. 

Alec was a fantastic kisser. Magnus hoped he was that good at everything else too, because then this night was going to be a good one. Fuck, he’d missed simple, easy sex. 

Alec pulled back, letting go of Magnus’ lips for a second. He looked at him for a short moment. He smiled, smirky and crooked and full of enjoyment and arousal, and Magnus felt himself harden in his pants. 

The air felt like lust. Heavy. Damp, in a way. Hot. The desire came off Alec in waves and Magnus couldn’t resist it, he just couldn’t. It was too good. 

Alec’s mouth latched onto Magnus’ neck and he sucked. Hard. 

Magnus made a sound. A moan. He grabbed at his hair a little harder, and pressed against Alec’s body. Who cared about professionalism and restraint; this was painfully good. 

Magnus pushed Alec back a little, and the groan of unhappiness that came out of the man made him almost shiver. Fuck, why was Alec so perfectly his type? He took off the top he was wearing and threw it to the floor. 

Alec’s grumpiness about being pushed away from the willing Magnus easily faded away the second his eyes met abs. Yes. Yes. Yes. That was good. He dove on to Magnus’ throat again, to finish the hickey he’d started, Magnus moaning and shifting against him. 

When Alec was satisfied with the mark he’d made, he started kissing down the man’s torso. He took his time, slowly licking and biting at a hard nipple, following the dip in between muscles. So fucking hot. So fucking good. And the hand in his hair that tugged slightly when he reached somewhere sensitive. 

Alec stopped when he was on his knees, face level with the man’s crotch, and the obvious bulge in his pants. Who cared what happened tonight? It was over. This wouldn’t mean anything, they wouldn’t be more than strangers again soon. Alec hadn’t had intercourse in long enough to have the actual need for it. He could easily enjoy himself and satisfy his needs tonight. 

He nuzzled against the bulge, kissing slightly along the velvety fabric of the pants, hearing the hitches in the breath of the other man. He smirked and undid the clasp of the belt, then the button and zipper, and pulled the garment down. 

He teased the man again, this time over the thinner fabric of the boxers. The outline of Magnus’ cock was much more evident now, and fuck if didn’t it make Alec’s mouth water. The last of the clothing was quickly discarded, and Alec started kissing and licking at the gorgeous cock in front of him. 

Who knew, a month and a half ago, that he would be on his knees, in the psychic’s kitchen, sucking his dick? 

Magnus groaned when he felt the warm lips of the man around the head of his cock, sucking slightly and licking at the slit. Fuck. It felt way too good. “Alec…” he moaned, and Alec sucked a little harder. 

Alec closed his eyes for a second and just enjoyed the taste and warmth of the cock in his mouth, leaning in to take more of him in. He moaned as well, and Magnus tugged at his hair. So good. 

Saying the man’s name seemed to have opened up a dam, because Magnus started groaning and cursing loudly soon after. “Fuck this is so good, Alec…” he moaned, voice going a little higher than usual as he let his eyes fall close and his mouth open. 

Thank fuck for the wall behind him. Else he would be falling backwards right now.

Alec sucked a little harder when precome hit his tongue, groaning again at the taste. He needed to have sex more often, for fuck’s sake. He was hard as hell, and he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted to, once they got to fucking. Maybe he should cut short the blowjob and get to fucking him soon. 

Magnus was starting to get close. God, he was way too horny, and the sheer arousal coming off of Alec was way too much for him to deal with. He hadn’t been this wanted in a while. In… months. His hips moved slightly, thrusting a little into the man’s mouth. Magnus groaned at the feeling. So did Alec. 

It was so good. So good, from head to toe, taking him by complete surprise, and making his body shudder in pleasure. Until Alec moved back, pulling away. Fuck, he needed more. He needed to come, or to move this to the bedroom, but this was not going to end right now. 

Magnus looked down at Alec, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“I want you to come when I fuck you, that’s all.” He shrugged and Magnus felt his dick jerk at that. Fuck. Saying yes to that kiss had been such a good fucking idea. 

Alec helped him out of the pants and underwear that were still around his ankles, and moved back up, kissing and licking again, and reached Magnus’ mouth. He stayed there, an inch away for a second, just staring into Magnus’ eyes with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. 

“Bedroom?” he asked hoarsely, licking his lips. He could still taste the precome.

Magnus nodded in reply, before adding a needy “yes, please.” 

Alec grinned. 

Magnus was gorgeous like this. Panting and flushed, and visibly so needy for more. Alec grabbed one of his legs and wrapped it around his waist before quickly picking him up. Magnus’ other leg wrapped around him. For a second, he stayed like this, Magnus’ legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, staring into lust-filled eyes, a hard cock trapped between them. 

Fuck. Good night indeed, he thought as he moved, quickly walking to the guest bedroom. And yeah. Magnus’ back hit the mattress, and he looked fucking glorious underneath Alec.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta @loveislarryislove & and the delightful artist @some-thrilling-heroics both on tumblr!  
> I wouldn't have been able to do this without them, and without the ever growing support from my dear @lewispanda and other lovelies!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Something unexpected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084751) by [lewispanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewispanda/pseuds/lewispanda)
  * [I thought it was impossible to love you more (but baby, you keep proving me wrong)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084820) by [lewispanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewispanda/pseuds/lewispanda)
  * [Chai Tea Latte](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916230) by [enkelimagnus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkelimagnus/pseuds/enkelimagnus)




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